Family Ties
by emospritelet
Summary: Following the gang's return from Neverland (I'm optimistic) with FTL flashbacks of Rumbelle and Regina. Belle's relationship with her father deteriorates and Regina's up to her old tricks
1. Chapter 1

Belle smoothed the pale green silk of her dress against her legs, pushed open the door to her father's study and cleared her throat, making him look up.

"You wanted to see me, Papa?"

"I did." He stood up, a tall, heavyset man, resplendent in embroidered velvet robes, and put his hand on her shoulder. "I've been talking with Sir Pascal. He thinks it's time his son was married and he approached me to ask if I'd consider a match between the two of you."

Belle's eyes almost started from her head as her stomach lurched.

"Marriage!" she choked. "With Gaston? But – "

"It's an eligible match," he interrupted. "Gaston has lands of his own and will take over the running of their estate when his father dies. You'd be a rich young woman, Belle, and we'd have the use of his soldiers." He turned back to his desk, where a map of the surrounding lands was spread, the current position of the approaching ogre hoard, far off as yet but still too close for comfort, marked with a soapstone paperweight in the shape of a sleeping dragon.

"But I don't know him," Belle complained. "I'm not even sure I _like_ him. We have nothing in common – I expect the last time he read a book was when he _learned_to read, assuming he ever did. His topics of conversation are as follows: Gaston; hunting; Gaston; fighting; Gaston; drinking contests; Gaston – need I go on?"

"Perhaps you can make him a better man," suggested her father mildly, toying with the small silver figurine of a horse that represented their own forces before placing it back on the map. Belle snorted, planting fists on hips.

"That's _someone's _life's work, no doubt, but I don't think I'd live long enough." She put a hand on his arm. "Papa, you know what he's like, what his attitude to women is! I'd be expected to sit at home and sew, or something. I wouldn't be allowed to have any opinions of my own."

"If I know you," he said, with a smile, "you'll have him whipped into shape in no time, letting you do whatever you like and, what's more, thinking it's all his idea."

Belle groaned. "And I'll have to put up with his _sisters_," she said, pulling a face. "Sylvie and Clarice are nothing but – but – stupid, catty, tailors' dummies!"

"Come, Belle, you're being too harsh." He was losing patience. "Sir Gaston is an honourable man and he wants to marry you. You can't sit at home buried in books your whole life. You have a duty to the town, and to me. You're my only child now. I need you to make a good match that will help me to protect our town."

"But Papa," she implored, taking his hand. "Why can't I choose who I marry?"

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you even like any of the young men around here?" he asked. "I thought I could interest you in Sir Laurence's son at the last ball, but you didn't speak to him after the first hour. He's a handsome fellow."

"He's vain and stupid," muttered Belle, and blushed at her own lack of charity. She squeezed his hand. "But I'm sure I'll meet someone I like, some day. What's the rush? Why can't I marry for love?"

"Marriages for the nobility aren't about love," he said shortly, as though quoting from a book. "They are about preserving the security and prosperity of the town. With the ogre wars taking a turn for the worse and moving in our direction, we need Gaston's forces to protect us."

"We have gold," suggested Belle, desperately. "We could just pay them to fight for us."

"That would be a temporary solution, and you know it," he snapped. "Family is for life. Now, I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense! You will do your duty as the lady of this town and as my daughter, do you understand?"

She wanted to weep, but forced herself to stillness. "Yes, Father."

His face softened as he saw how close she was to tears, and he put his arm around her.

"There, there, darling," he said gently. "You may be pleasantly surprised. Did you know, when your mother and I first met we didn't get on at all."

Belle's eyes widened in shock. "Really? But you were so happy."

He smiled. "Really. She thought I was a boor who cared for nothing but hunting and riding and I thought she walked around with her nose in the air looking down on everyone because she thought she was better than them." His smile turned wistful. "Of course, she was right about that." He pulled her closer. "We argued non-stop for the first year of our marriage, before we realised that we were actually perfect for each other. Two sides of a coin." He kissed the top of her head and she leant against him with a sigh. "I miss her every day," he said quietly. "You know that's why I never remarried. But I know what she'd say to you if she was here." He looked down at her, holding her gaze. "Forge a strong alliance," he whispered. "Secure our future. Do whatever it takes to protect our lands and our people."

Belle sighed again, recognising the truth in his words, and he squeezed her tight. "And don't despair," he added. "Love can sometimes grow in the most unexpected of places."

* * *

Belle awoke slowly, hearing a chink of china somewhere in the room. She opened one eye to see Gold carrying a tray under one arm, and pushed herself up on her elbows, smiling as he sat down on the edge of the bed. She wondered if she could persuade him to get back under the covers, but decided, a little regretfully, that breakfast ought to come first. She still marvelled at the intimacy of their relationship. She had known little of men before making their deal; her mother had died when she was only eight and the only discussions she had had on the subject after that were with her formidable, and unmarried, governess, and several equally inexperienced girlfriends. All these conversations had left her with the distinct impression that sex was something painful, embarrassing, and to be avoided at all costs. _Just grit your teeth, my dear, _her governess had advised sternly. _And remember that's how you were made. Once you are with child, you can easily refrain from such things._ Had she known that the act could leave her breathless, could turn her body into a quivering mass of jelly that seemed only to feel pleasure, she would have been far less nervous when she had approached him on their first night together and had all but flung herself on him. For Gold's part, he still could not believe that she had chosen him, that she recognised the darkness at his core and yet still saw something in him that was worth loving. She had opened herself to him completely from the first day they were reunited in Storybrooke, their initial fight and brief separation setting a pattern for the weeks to come, as she sought to understand and accept who and what he was, and who _she _was. There had been a lot of arguing, kissing and making-up in that time, and he had particularly enjoyed the last part. Belle was passionate when she was angry. He looked at her as she yawned sleepily; her dark hair fell over her face in unruly curls, and with her wide eyes and slightly flushed cheeks she looked about sixteen, which made his thoughts positively criminal.

"Good morning," she murmured, reaching for him and kissing him deeply, pulling his head down on hers. The kiss lasted for a long moment before they broke apart.

"You dressed!" she said accusingly, flicking his tie, and he smiled.

"I thought I might open the shop today," he said. "We've been hiding in here for a few days now, it's about time we saw the outside."

"Mm," she agreed, picking up a cinnamon Danish and biting into it. Warm flaky pastry crumbled on her lips and she savoured the sweet taste of sugar and spice. "I have some work to do in the library. We got a load of new book donations before you got back, so I want to finish the cataloguing."

"We could have lunch together," he suggested, pouring coffee for them.

"I'll bring it to the shop," she promised. "What would you like?"

His grin was evil. "You."

"Well, in that case," she teased. "You should make sure you lock the door this time!"

The grin widened. "Understood."

Her reference to one of the least savoury memories of Lacey made him a little uncomfortable; having Emma walk in on them when she was straddling him with her skirt up around her waist was not pleasant. Lacey had thought it hilarious, Emma had been mortified, and he… He had not cared at the time, but he felt guilty over Lacey, and he sensed Belle did too. He brushed her hair out of her face, stroking her cheek tenderly.

"Belle, what happened when you weren't – you…" he began. "I can't apologise enough. I was trying to keep you safe, to keep you with me. Lacey didn't have your fidelity. If another man had touched you, I would have – I would have been devastated." He didn't say he would have killed any such man, would have made him beg for death before the end, but her narrowed eyes showed that she knew. She remembered Nottingham. The one-time sheriff had gotten off lightly. So had she, in a way. She had approached from behind as he was beating Nottingham to a pulp and he had turned, full of bloodlust, his eyes crackling with power and rage, every inch the Dark One, to see her gazing at him hungrily. When she had stepped closer to him, had indicated with her shortened breath and dilated pupils that she was truly aroused by his darkness, it took every ounce of his self-control not to slam her back against the wall and take her there and then. They had made it back to his place. Just. She had proceeded to show him that Lacey was very different from Belle, and a part of him, the part he had tried so often and so unsuccessfully to bury for Belle's sake, had enjoyed indulging his dark passions. She remembered it all, of course, and she touched his cheek gently, reassuringly.

"I know what you were trying to do," she said quietly. "For what it's worth I'm sorry too. And embarrassed." She actually blushed slightly as she looked up at him, then giggled. "Although, now I don't think I'll ever be concerned about asking you to try anything new."

He winced, kissing her. "As long as it's not for a while. I need to recover from the last time you did that." Belle chuckled, her smile wicked.

Once breakfast was over, Belle got up to wash and change. He lay on the bed, fully-dressed, watching her pick out and discard items of clothing. She went to the window to check on the weather, and turned to him with a start.

"It's spring!" she announced, with an air of surprise. "It's four years!"

"Four years since – ". He feigned confusion and she made a face at him.

"Our first kiss," she admonished, and he smiled ruefully.

"Ah yes, in some ways one of the best and worst days of my life!"

"Well, you only have yourself to blame," she said unsympathetically, and he chuckled.

"You're right, of course, and we should celebrate." He stood up and drew her to him for a lingering kiss that left the two of them breathless. "We could go out for dinner," he said softly, when he had let her go. She leant against his chest with a sigh and gazed up at him.

"Or," she whispered. "We could stay in."

"You," he breathed. "Are the most delicious deal I ever made."

* * *

Sir Maurice leant on the table, fixing each of the Council members with a grim eye.

"It seems the ogres are covering more ground than we anticipated," he said bitterly. "At this rate we'll be overrun within weeks."

"What of Sir Gregor's forces?" asked Sir Pascal. He was a tall, handsome man with black hair, much like his son Gaston. Maurice shook his head.

"Too far off," he said. "By the time they reach us, we'll be surrounded." He ran his hand over his face worriedly. "I don't think we can stop the ogres with the tactics we're using, they're just destroying everything in their path."

"We're losing too many men," agreed Sir Laurence. "We need a new strategy."

"I suggest an all-out attack on the ogres during the day," said Gaston. "That way we have the advantage."

Pascal shook his head. "To attack their camp – we'd no doubt kill a lot while they slept, but there are too many for us to take out, and then we'd have nowhere to retreat to. The ground is far too rocky for horses where they are."

Belle turned a page of her book quietly, hoping they wouldn't notice she was curled on one of the chairs at the side of the room.

"We need to rethink this," declared Laurence, running his hands over his rotund belly. Despite his size Laurence was a skilled rider and fighter. His lands were nearest to the ogres and he therefore arguably had the most to lose from their current situation. The other men turned to look at him enquiringly, and he leant on the table.

"This is the third ogre war in the past century, and there have been others before that we've heard of," he began. "Each time, the ogres rise up, kill thousands, and somehow disappear again. How? How were the ogres defeated in the last war? No-one in Avonlea seems to know." He looked at them expectantly. There was a moment's silence as the men glanced at one another and shrugged.

"The Dark One," said Belle clearly, from her corner, and the men spun to face her.

"Belle, my dear, this is hardly suitable conversation for a young lady," began Gaston, and Belle frowned, snapping her book shut.

"Is that your way of telling me not to worry my pretty little head about certain death and destruction?" she asked with a smile, her voice overly sweet. The older men exchanged grins. Gaston opened his mouth to reply, confusion on his face, but Maurice held up a hand.

"Let her speak," he said. "Belle, what do you know?"

She sat up, blue silk rustling softly, and put down her book.

"I don't know about all the wars," she admitted. "But from what I've read in the old books we hold, in the last two, the Dark One stopped the ogres after the townsfolk made a deal with him."

The Council shared uneasy looks, murmurs of "Dark One" and "dangerous" drifting around the table.

"Perhaps this is the solution," said Laurence slowly. "As distasteful as we may find it, gentlemen, perhaps this is the way to save our people."

"I don't like it," said Pascal at once. "He can't be trusted."

"That's not true," countered Belle, and blushed as they all turned to look at her again. She lifted her chin. "He may be evil, but the books all say that if he makes a deal, he sticks to it, as long as you don't try to break it. We – I mean you – just need to ensure that you give him what he wants."

Maurice sighed. "I don't see that we have many options here," he said grimly. "We have gold – we'll send him a message promising him gold to stop the ogres."

"What if he wants something else?" said Gaston bluntly. "What if we don't _have_ anything he wants?"

"Then we're no worse off, are we?" snapped Maurice. "Gentlemen, your opinions?"

There was a certain amount of grumbling and shaking of heads, but in the end it was agreed that a message would be sent to the Dark One, pleading for help and promising gold in return. Belle felt oddly calm, as though a decision had been made that would be for the best. She wondered if the Dark One would come in person, if she would actually see him, and felt a twinge of excitement and fear at the prospect.

"This will work," said Maurice confidently, as the message was prepared, and the other men glanced at one another uneasily. "Everyone wants gold," he added, and Belle shook her head.

"He's the Dark One," she said, with a shrug. "We have no idea what he wants."

* * *

Rumplestiltskin paused in his constant turning of the spinning-wheel, sensing a deal to be made. Flickers of foresight scurried across his mind, and he saw a group of men standing around a table, discussing an offer to be made to him for help. Help to defeat the ogres. He smiled none too pleasantly. Wars were always useful to him; people would be desperate enough to offer him anything to keep themselves, their families and fortunes safe. He decided to wait until he received the offer before going to them – it should take only a day or so until the messenger arrived with whatever it was they had to dangle in front of him. Pushing himself up from the stool, he sauntered casually to the long mirror at the end of the room, its glass covered by a thick shawl patterned in gold, brown and burnt orange. He whipped the cloth to the side and waved a casual hand at it, his reflection immediately disappearing, to be replaced by swirling colours that gradually coalesced into an image. He could see the same men as he had glanced at in his vision; all of them were dressed for battle except one, a large, heavyset man dressed all in furs and velvet. The local lord, he presumed.

"How much gold will we offer?" asked a tall, handsome young man, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. The larger, older man shook his head.

"We'll start with twenty thousand crowns," he announced. "That way we have plenty in reserve if we need to go higher."

Rumplestiltskin curled his lip. Gold! As if he would accept that! He was already losing interest, certain these men could offer him nothing he would want, when he saw her. A flash of blue in the corner of the mirror had caught his gaze, and his eyebrows jumped up when he saw a young woman stride purposefully towards the older men and put her hand on his arm. Her father? Perhaps, although they bore little resemblance to one another. He eyed her curiously. She was strikingly beautiful; her chestnut hair fell in elaborate curls down past her creamy white shoulders and the blue of the silk dress she wore matched the colour of her wide, clear eyes. She had a book tucked under her arm, thick in the spine and old. That piqued his interest; few noble daughters bothered to read in his experience and, when they did, they seemed to prefer slim novels full of nonsense about gallant knights in armour and virtuous damsels in distress. This girl was different. Her eyes shone with intelligence, compassion and spirit. The good-looking young man put his hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off impatiently. Not her brother, certainly. Her husband? No, there was no ring. Her intended, perhaps, but whose intentions were they? Not hers, he thought; she was dismissive of the man, not wanting him to touch her. He smiled to himself, stroking his lip absently with his forefinger as he watched her.

"This is the right decision, Father," she said earnestly. "I'm certain he'll come. He'll help us, I know it. He'll want to make a deal."

_Indeed_, thought Rumplestiltskin wryly. _But for something far more precious than gold._ He tapped his fingertips together thoughtfully as the picture swam back to his own reflection. He would give them a few extra days, long enough to become truly desperate, before naming his price.

* * *

**.**


	2. Chapter 2

Gold sauntered slowly into Game of Thorns, noting the cool emptiness of the shop. He eyed the blooms displayed in plastic buckets around the floor, his cane tapping against the tiles as he walked. The air was heady with the scent of flowers and greenery, and he was reminded fleetingly of his own gardens in the Enchanted Forest, the vine-draped bowers and wrought-iron sculptures where fragrant honeysuckle grew, its perfume intense in the moonlight. He had never got to see Belle in the summer back home, had never strolled with her amongst the lush growth or tucked a blossom behind her ear. Their past in the Enchanted Forest was all autumn and winter, hinting at the spring to come. He longed for the heady days of summer with her, walks in the sunshine and long, warm nights together in his woodland cabin or curled up on the back porch at home. His thoughts were interrupted by Moe French stomping into the shop from the back room, buckets in hand containing lilies and irises. Moe slammed them down on the floor.

"You!" he snapped belligerently. "What the hell do you want? Get out of my shop!"

"My, my," said Gold mildly. "Turning away paying customers, are we?" He looked around the empty shop. "You must be doing better than I anticipated. Perhaps it's time we reviewed your rent." The sentence ended with a hint of menace, and Moe bristled.

"What do you want?" he asked, a little more reasonably.

"I'm here to buy flowers," said Gold, with a smile. "You see, in addition to our reunion, it's a special night for Belle and myself – sort of an anniversary. Four years, since we first – ", he spread his fingers, palm upwards, the smile widening. "Well, that's neither here nor there, is it? I want four dozen red roses." He picked up one of the red-bloomed flowers from a pail at his feet. "These look adequate."

Moe's jaw clenched, and his voice was cold fury. "If you think I'm gonna sell you flowers so you can use them to seduce my daughter, you're out of your mind!"

Still smiling, Gold lifted the rose and gently ran his forefinger over the tips of the soft, fragrant lobes. He raised the flower to his face, his lips brushing the red velvet petals as he inhaled deeply. When he lifted his eyes, Moe was trembling, his face a mixture of anger, revulsion and fear. Gold delicately kissed the rose petals, his lips pulling at them gently, and touched his teeth with the tip of his tongue, his smile widening, eyebrows twitching. A dull, red flush was spreading upwards from Moe's neck, mottling his cheeks.

"Oh, I don't need flowers," Gold said pleasantly. "But I find that I like to surround her with beautiful things. So. Four dozen, if you please."

Without a word, his face taut with anger, Moe lifted the pail of roses up onto the desk and began counting them out. When he was nearing the total Gold held up his hand with a grin.

"Oh, and if you could count out another half-dozen and put them aside," he asked. "I thought I'd pull them apart and scatter the petals on the bed." He smiled conspiratorially. "Creates the right ambience, wouldn't you agree?" He was enjoying watching the changing colours in Moe's face, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of bills and starting to peel some off. Moe slammed the last of the flowers down and glared as he pulled them together into a bouquet.

"I don't want your money!" he spat. "I want to see my daughter! Whatever spell you have her under, let her go."

"You clearly have no idea how magic works," said Gold dryly. "I can't create love. Like it or not, she loves me. She has for a very long time. I let her go in our world. She chose to return. I'm not holding her against her will."

"Then let her come and visit me."

Gold puffed air through his teeth, exasperated. "Contrary to what you and, no doubt, everyone else thinks, I don't tell her what to do. If she chooses not to visit I can only assume it's because you keep badmouthing the man she loves. You may wish to rethink that approach if you want her back in your life."

Moe scowled at him. "I hoped you'd never come back," he said bluntly. "I hoped you'd be trapped over there, and in time she'd get over you."

"I know," said Gold mildly, and showed his teeth. "Sorry to disappoint you. But I still won't tell her to come here if she doesn't want to."

"That's my price," said Moe stubbornly. "Tell her I want to see her."

Gold inclined his head. "That I can do." He picked up the flowers, turning to go.

"You're a monster!" blurted Moe. "And one day she'll see that! There's nothing but darkness in you! You're not capable of love! There's nothing you can give her that she could ever want!"

Gold spun slowly on his heel to face Moe, his smile enigmatic.

"You know, you're so wrong, I'm not even angry at that insult," he said quietly. "Belle is my true love. That's something more powerful than any spell. And I give her _everything_ she wants."

"You're not fit to wipe her boots!" spat Moe, and Gold's smile became self-deprecating.

"As if I need you to tell me that," he said wryly.

* * *

Belle released Rumplestiltskin's hand and walked slowly around the library again, looking more closely at the books on the shelves. She had spoken the truth; she would never be able to read all of these, even if she completely shirked her housekeeping duties, which she was certainly not about to do. He watched her, his hand still tingling slightly from her touch. Her hair shone in the candlelight like polished mahogany, dark against her pale shoulders. Her skin was smooth and flawless; he imagined how it would feel, soft as silk beneath his fingers, and hurriedly shoved the thought to the back of his mind. She was mouthing book titles to herself, her golden-yellow silk dress gleaming as she ran her forefinger over the spines of the books on the shelf in front of her. He had enjoyed her reaction to the library, and was keen to do something else for her. Fortunately, he already had a surprise planned.

"You might want to change into something more practical than that dress, dearie," he suggested. "I won't have you tripping over your skirts and injuring yourself. Who'd make the tea and break my porcelain then, hmm?"

She shot him an amused look, which seemed to see right through him.

"Well, you didn't exactly give me time to pack anything," she said dryly, and he clicked his tongue impatiently.

"Your clothes are in your room," he countered, and she straightened up, turning to face him in surprise.

"No, they're not."

He smiled widely then, and crooked his finger invitingly. "Follow me," he said softly, and strode from the room, Belle trotting in his wake, her expression confused. Once they had descended the stairs from the library, he led her across a wide landing past the main flight of marble stairs. He then turned to the right along an unfamiliar corridor and stopped outside the third door down before dropping into his elaborate bow.

"What is this?" she asked suspiciously, and he giggled, spreading his arms wide.

"Your room, of course!"

Curious, she turned the handle of the door, and gasped as she saw what lay within. She was in a large, airy room with a stone fireplace and windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, draped in deep blue velvet. The bed was carved oak, its four posts draped with more deep blue, this time silk, and its coverlet the colour of the sky. There were beautifully-patterned rugs on the polished wooden floor and chairs upholstered in gold-embroidered cloth. She rushed to the wardrobe and flung open the doors, revealing dozens of dresses in every shade and fabric, although gold, white and blue predominated. She ran her hands over the familiar gowns, tears starting in her eyes, and turned to face him. He was leaning against the door frame, smiling slightly as he watched her.

"This is my room," she said, gesturing about her, and he inclined his head.

"I believe we already established that."

"No, I mean it's _my room_!" she jabbed her own chest with her finger. "My room from home!"

He shrugged as if moving an entire room with its contents from one building to another leagues away was nothing. "You agreed to come with me and stay forever. I think you've been crying in the dungeons long enough. I don't want you getting homesick all the time – you might burn my crumpets or something." His eyes were sparkling with pleasure at her reaction, and she blinked back tears. She wanted to hug him again, but he was standing with his arms folded, protecting himself from a sudden attack.

"Thank you," she said earnestly. He gestured towards the fireplace, and the fire burst into life, crackling comfortingly.

"Just be sure you're up in time to make the breakfast," he said sternly, turning away. He then spun back, one finger raised. "Oh, and please only use the mirrors in _this_ room, and nowhere else." She nodded, confused, and he disappeared. Looking around the room once more, Belle tried the door halfway down the bedroom wall and it led, as she had anticipated, to a spacious bathroom tiled in shades of blue ranging from midnight around the pedestal of her bath to powder blue towards the ceiling. She ran her hands over the marble washbasin. Even her washcloths were here, as she had left them. She spent some time wandering between the two rooms, looking at her familiar things. She felt almost too restless to sleep, but the next day would be a long one if she was to complete all the tasks she intended, and she was determined to get a decent night's sleep. _Something that will be much easier in my own bed_, she thought_._ Belle sat down at her dresser, poking through the drawers to check their contents. Everything was just as she remembered. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her pale face framed with waves of dark hair, and sighed. For all the familiarity of her rooms, she still felt homesick, and missed her father deeply. But she had given her word, and she would keep it.

* * *

Gold relaxed backwards into the bath, fragrant bubbles bursting gently around him. The flowers were in a vase on the bedroom dresser, petals scattered on the bed; he had thought about leaving the extra half-dozen roses in the bouquet until he remembered Moe's face, and then, with a grin, had pulled them apart, wondering whether the thought of he and Belle together gave Moe sleepless nights. The champagne was chilling in an ice-bucket beside him, and he smiled as he heard the front door slam.

"Rumple?" called Belle, and he sat up, reaching for the champagne.

"Up here!" he returned, and listened to her tread on the stairs. He twisted the cork from the bottle with a satisfying pop and poured two measures, smiling again as he heard her exclamation of delight upon entering the bedroom. She put her head around the bathroom door, then came fully into the room, her eyes sparkling.

"Rough day?" she asked teasingly, upon seeing him in the tub with a glass in hand.

"Getting better." He held up another glass. "Care to join me?"

Giggling, she peeled off her clothes and stepped into the bath, sitting at the opposite end and taking the champagne from him.

"So, this is what staying in for dinner looks like," she said with a grin, and he shrugged.

"We have seafood," he said, holding up a plate of oysters and cold cooked lobster.

They ate and drank slowly, until the oyster shells were empty and the lobster was no more than a few shreds of meat and smears of lemon mayonnaise. He refilled their glasses and Belle leaned back with a sigh, sliding down so that the bubbles reached to her shoulders. She had slipped her legs either side of his, her feet stroking his hips under the water, and he put a comfortable hand on her knee.

"The flowers are beautiful," she said gently, and he smiled.

"Yes, your father does have the best ones in town," he acknowledged. She sat up in surprise.

"You went to Father?" She puffed her cheeks out. "I never thought he'd sell to you."

"Oh, he didn't want money," said Gold airily. "He wanted me to set you free from the spell I'd placed on you."

Belle's eyes narrowed. "He said _what_?"

"I explained that that wasn't the situation. Not sure he believed me, however."

She sighed. "So what was the price?"

"I agreed to tell you that he wants to see you." He took a drink of champagne, and she snorted.

"I'm not going back to have the same old argument with him," she snapped. "He was insufferable while you were away! If he wants to see me he needs to respect my choices."

"Well, you may find he'll come around to that," said Gold gently. He reached forward and stroked her hair back from her face. "Look, Belle, I don't care what your father thinks of me – it's probably no worse than what everyone else thinks – but I know you're unhappy about your estrangement." He brushed her cheek with his finger. "Don't hide yourself away out of loyalty to me, it's not worth it."

She settled down in the water again, sipping her drink. "I'll go and see him tomorrow," she announced, a little reluctantly, and he smiled, sitting back.

"Then that particular debt is paid."

**Author's Note: Hope you're all enjoying this. I thought it was about time Rumple gave Belle some new clothes. I'm finishing up the next instalment so this should be with you soon**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thanks so much for the kind reviews, I'm glad I raised some laughs with Gold being an arse to Moe. Here's the next bit - enjoy!**

Henry bounced into Emma's bedroom enthusiastically, making her start. His face fell as he saw that she was strapping on her holster.

"You're going out?" he said forlornly. "I thought we could hang out today."

"You have school," Emma reminded him firmly. "And I have a job to do." She pulled on her jacket, and began lacing up her boots. Henry sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at the items on the bedside table; an empty cup, a magazine, and her swan pendant on its chain. He picked it up carefully.

"How come you never wear this anymore?" he asked, holding it up. "You never used to leave it off."

"The chain is broken," said Emma shortly, ignoring the pang of hurt and loss in her chest at the thought of Neal. "I need to get it fixed. Now come on, let's go, you're gonna be late. Again!"

Shrugging, resigned to his fate, Henry dropped the pendant back on the bedside table and followed her downstairs.

"So, what are you doing today?" he asked brightly, as she took his lunch from the fridge and put it in his backpack.

"I am going to try to stop strangers from coming to Storybrooke," announced Emma, smiling at his sudden interest.

"You mean, with magic?" he asked excitedly. "But wasn't the town already hidden? The cloaking spell?"

"That stopped those that wanted to find it," explained Emma. "We need to stop people from randomly stumbling across it as well. I was thinking along the lines of a protection spell, too. We don't need a hunting party coming across Ruby when she's running through the woods, for example."

"Cool!" Henry grinned. "How will you do it?"

"Coat," said Emma firmly, and held out his backpack as he shrugged into his coat hurriedly. "I have absolutely no idea. I thought I'd ask Gold for help."

"Can I come and watch?" pleaded Henry, shouldering his backpack, and she rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely not!" she said sternly. "I'll pick you up later. The further you are from magic, the happier I'll feel."

"But you have magic," Henry pointed out. "Are you saying I should stay away from you? Or Mr Gold?"

"No, I'm not," Emma sighed, putting her hands on his shoulders. "I just don't want any price there is for this to be paid by you, okay?"

Henry nodded reluctantly, and allowed her to lead him from the house. As the yellow bug pulled away, carrying the two of them down the road towards the town, neither occupant saw Regina slip inside the front door.

* * *

Regina looked around cautiously as she left her family tomb, and walked briskly to her car, a large cardboard box in her gloved hands. She transferred the box to the trunk of the car and drove back to the town centre, parking outside the clock tower. The hands of the clock showed that it was approaching nine-thirty, and the streets were quiet, most of the residents of Storybrooke having reached their place of work. Regina pulled her set of skeleton keys from her pocket, retrieved the box from the car and opened the door to the library, darting inside and locking the door hurriedly behind her. She didn't bother to turn on the lights, but created a small, bright ball of light which hung in front of her, guiding her towards the elevator. She opened the doors with magic, carrying the box inside and waiting for the elevator to descend to the depths below the library.

Regina waved her hand and the doors opened, rattling loudly in the still darkness. The ball of light flew upwards, casting its pale glow over the cavern, and Regina picked her way carefully across the floor, heading for a large trunk placed in an alcove beyond the glass coffin. She placed the cardboard box on the floor and opened the trunk, casting her eyes over the contents and carefully selecting a small figurine in the shape of a winged serpent curled in a spiral, its eyes blood-red garnets, along with an amulet of silver and amber with strange markings slashed across it like runes. A smile spreading slowly across her face, Regina looped the amulet around her neck, placed the figurine on the ground, and reached into the cardboard box. She removed seven small wooden boxes, each glowing with a pulsing red light, and took a heart from each, placing them in a circle around the figurine. She then withdrew a bottle of potion from the box, the liquid inside gleaming a bright, vibrant green, and poured it counter-clockwise around the outside of the circle. Smiling to herself, she pushed herself to her feet, clutching at the amulet, and looked down at the circle of beating hearts. She curled her lip. Her guards, sworn to serve, had deserted her in Storybrooke. Not one of them had rallied to her side, not one had taken his oath to her seriously. Yet they still had their uses. Taking a deep breath, and mustering all the magic she could, Regina thrust her hands down towards the circle and the hearts smashed to dust simultaneously. For a moment there was silence, then a rumbling sound began to build, a hole opening in the air in front of her, in the midst of the circle, a hole that led to nothing, that was filled with darkness. Regina stepped back, her smile widening, as a huge serpent rose out of the hole, shrieking in triumph as it tasted freedom and gazing down at her with glowing red eyes. It flexed stunted wings and raked the air with its two clawed feet, letting out another loud shriek. Regina lifted the amulet, and the wyvern sank back a little, eyes narrowing with sudden caution. She smiled, and reached into her pocket.

"I have released you from your prison, and for that I claim my reward before you return to our world, and your freedom," she said loudly. "I know that you must feed before you reach your full potential, and I ask to choose one of your victims." She held up a silver chain in her gloved hand, from which dangled a small pendant with a swan pictured on one side. "I want you to kill the person whose scent is on this." She dropped the pendant to the floor and the wyvern ran his head over it, tongue flicking out and tasting the scent. Their eyes met, understanding flashing between them, and Regina dropped her gaze, gathered up the empty wooden boxes, and waked briskly back to the elevator. The creature would need time to gather its strength before venturing into the town to devour the seven victims it would need to return to the Enchanted Forest. She was smiling widely as she left the library. Soon Emma would be dead and Regina would be seen as the saviour of the town. Henry would be all hers once more, and if the creature decided to devour the tasty morsel that was Belle on its way to fulfil her request, she'd have her revenge on Gold as well. That only left the insufferable Charmings. Perhaps she could find a way to point the wyvern in their direction. She clutched the amulet close to her chest, and frowned in concentration as she considered the items in her vault. Perhaps there was a way to have her revenge on everyone who had wronged her.

* * *

Gold and Belle were awoken by a banging at the door, and a glance at the clock showed that it was approaching 9:30. Belle grumbled something about people having no respect for others' sleep patterns and pulled one of the pillows over her head. They had been awake long into the night, wrapped in each other's arms, breaking only to drink some champagne or, early in the morning, some tea. He had done things beneath the blankets that left her flushed and gasping, his long tongue sliding into her soft folds and stroking her gently until she arched herself into him and screamed his name. He had then kissed his way back up her twitching body, emerging from beneath the covers to take her in his arms again. They had fallen asleep just before four in the morning, and he could appreciate Belle's desire for further rest. The knocking came again and Gold pushed himself up out of bed, drawing on a thick silk robe of charcoal grey and making his way downstairs.

"I'm certain there's a good reason for this disturbance," he said dryly, as he opened the door. Emma stood with her hand raised to pound. She frowned at him.

"Well, I guess that answers one question. You don't sleep in your suits." She looked him over and tilted her head to the side. "You look like hell. Are you ill?"

"Long night, Miss Swan. What can I do for you?" He stood aside to let her in, and made his way to the kitchen to put on some coffee.

"I need your help," she said reluctantly, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed? And how may I be of assistance?"

"The town line," she said abruptly. "Can it be re-cursed so that the outside world doesn't come stumbling in here again? Maybe some sort of protection spell to make sure no-one in the town is hurt by outsiders?"

He thought for a moment, taking cups from the cupboard and getting out the cream. This was a problem he had been considering since Mendell had burst onto the scene, and he thought that he knew how it could be achieved.

"Perhaps," he allowed, placing the cups on the worktop. "But solving this problem alone is, alas, beyond my capabilities." She looked crestfallen, and he added. "Of course, if you help me, that's no longer an issue."

Emma looked up, intrigued. "You mean, we could fix this together?"

"If you accompany me to the town line and promise to do exactly as I say, we should be able to accomplish the task," he said quietly. "Of course, we could approach Regina for assistance, but – "

"No way!" said Emma firmly, and he smiled.

"We appear to be in agreement on that score," he said with amusement.

She opened her mouth to ask what form the spell would take, and at that moment Belle walked into the kitchen, wearing his discarded shirt, open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up. She smiled and greeted Emma as she padded to the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of juice, dark blue silk skimming her figure, and he took pleasure in the distraction of her slim, pale legs as she passed. She stretched up to kiss him on her way back, pulling his head down on hers.

"Don't be too long," she whispered, and sashayed back up the stairs with her juice. Emma turned back to him, one eyebrow raised and a look of amusement on her face. "Long night, huh?"

"We've just been reunited, Miss Swan, I'm sure you can sympathise." He stirred his coffee, watching her, and his smile was suddenly wicked. "I'm glad you turned up when you did. I'm not sure I would have survived another hour."

Emma rolled her eyes with a shudder. "Spare me the details. So what do we need to do for this spell? Are you going to help me?"

"And what's in it for me, exactly?" He sipped his coffee. "I'm sure you can appreciate that I'm otherwise engaged at the moment."

"The last time someone from the outside came to Storybrooke, you lost your son. Not to mention the rest of our family being put in danger."

"So, being part of your family results in me providing my services free of charge _ad infinitum_, does it?" He took another drink. "Seems rather a poor bargain, given the alternative." His eyebrows twitched.

Emma folded her arms sternly. "You know the best way to ensure you and Belle carry on your happy little life is to cast that spell. Now, other than disturbing mental imagery, do you have anything useful to offer me?"

He smiled slightly, and put down his coffee. "You're in luck, Miss Swan. This is actually something I've been putting my not inconsiderable talents to the past few days, in between…" He spread his fingers expressively, smile widening. "Well, never mind that."

Emma gave him a flat look, and he bit his lip in amusement.

"You and I need to go around the entire town line, casting the spell," he explained. "No stopping, no breaking. It'll be slow, as the spell will need time to develop. It may take us two days. There'll be no sleep for either of us."

"Understood." She drank her coffee. "When can we start?"

"Let me wash and dress, and we'll go."


	4. Chapter 4

"So, how does it work?" asked Emma warily. Gold was wearing his enchanted shawl as a safety measure as they walked slowly towards the town line. Reaching inside his jacket, he withdrew a wand of crystal, handing it to Emma. He dug in his pocket again and pulled out a bottle filled with a gleaming red liquid.

"How do I use this?" she asked, nonplussed, looking at the wand, and he smiled.

"The wand focuses the magic you already possess," he explained. "We'll be able to do far more with them than we could alone. When I pour this potion on the line, the boundary will show up right around the town. We stand either side of it, and we perform the spell."

"But you're not telling me how," she complained. He rolled his eyes impatiently.

"You _will_ it, of course," he said. "Let me lead, you can follow. You'll be able to feel what I do. Your task is to join in and hold the spell in place." He paused. "You'll want to turn off your phone; we can't have any disturbances once this starts."

Emma complied, and stepped to the other side of the town line. Gold poured the potion, and immediately a red glow seemed to infuse the line and spread outwards along it. He threw the bottle away and took a second wand from his inside pocket.

"Excellent," said Gold quietly. He held up the wand. "Now, dearie, watch and learn." He pointed the wand at the line, and Emma felt, rather than saw, a wall spring up, a wall made up of spells of invisibility, confusion and misdirection. She fought to keep her concentration; the spell was making her want to _ignore _the town, to walk the opposite way. She held up her own wand and allowed herself to feel what Gold was feeling. The magic flowed through her like fire, funnelling down through the wand. Emma took a deep breath. She had never experienced anything like this before; the power that she felt running through her was intoxicating. She felt her power meld with his, strengthening the spell, pushing it onwards.

"Good girl," his voice was soft. "Keep it up. Keep feeling it."

Slowly, they began to walk east, one either side of the line.

* * *

The day after their return from chasing the thief Robin Hood, Belle awoke early. She had slept well and taken a bath, luxuriating in the hot, perfumed water, and she kept herself busy cleaning the main rooms of the castle. As she explored each room and determined what needed to be done, she devised a schedule for herself for the various tasks she would need to perform to keep the castle clean and tidy. She had dressed simply in a long-sleeved gown of deep blue wool which was warm and comfortable, and the day passed quickly as she dusted and swept. She had seen Rumplestiltskin only twice, at breakfast and at lunch, following which he had retreated to his study, muttering about some work he needed to do.

"I thought you'd want to hear straight away." His voice made her jump and drop the vase she had been dusting. Instantly he was at her side, the vase in his hand.

"You really are determined to break all of my things, aren't you dearie?" His face was amused rather than cross and she laughed nervously.

"You startled me," she said by way of explanation. "What would I want to hear?"

He held out a slip of paper that looked as though it had come from a messenger dove, and she unfurled it eagerly. _Ogres vanished. Town made safe. No more lives lost. War over. _She looked up at him with a wide smile, her eyes shining.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and his mouth twitched.

"I always honour my agreements," he said quietly, and moved away.

"If you can stop wars just like that," she said, tucking the piece of paper into her belt-pouch as he turned back to her. "Why don't you get rid of the ogres completely?"

His eyebrows shot up, a hand pressed to his heart in mock horror. "You would have me commit genocide? Oh my!"

"No, no," she said hastily. "I just meant – why not send them somewhere they can't hurt anyone, where they can't start wars and kill innocent people."

He sat down at the table, lounging in his chair, and regarded her over tented fingers. "Because there's no profit in peace."

"But you're profiting from human suffering!" she objected. "That makes you nothing but a – a mercenary furthering your own ends with the misery of others!"

He smiled. "Sticks and stones, dearie," he said pleasantly. "Someone_ always_ profits from human suffering. I'd rather it was me than anyone else."

Belle frowned. "But why do you _need _profit?" She turned in a circle, spreading her arms wide to indicate the opulence of the room. "You have everything you could ever want."

"How interesting. You've been here less than a week and you already know all my deepest desires." His eyebrows quirked with amusement and she blushed.

"Well, no, but –"

"So let me get this right," he interrupted, tapping his fingertips together. "You think it would be better for me not to make such deals with little towns like yours, presumably because you would then be back at home preparing to marry that long streak of nothing you call a fiancé."

"Sir Gaston is an honourable man," she said defensively.

"Whom you do not love."

"How did you – ?" She stopped what she had been going to say at his infuriating smile. "Marriages for the nobility aren't about love, they are about preserving the security and prosperity of the town." She spoke as if the phrase had been learnt by rote, and he sat forward, looking amused.

"You know, if I'd wanted a conversation with your father, I'd have made _him_ the price for my assistance."

Belle blushed again.

"If I accept his argument, however," he continued, sitting back. "It seems to me that our alliance has been far more effective in achieving his desired objective than the one he intended."

Belle nodded slowly, remembering her father's words and fingering her belt pouch where the precious message lay. "Then it's been a good bargain," she said, with a trace of a smile.

* * *

After Gold and Emma had left, Belle showered, dressed and made her way into the town. She swung her arms happily as she walked, wondering if it was obvious to all she passed that she had spent the last four days in a haze of pleasure and abandon. She almost skipped as she crossed the street, pushing open the door to Granny's diner and greeting Ruby with a smile and a wave. She slid onto one of the stools at the bar and ordered an iced tea. Ruby finished serving coffee to a customer and hurried over, leaning on the bar opposite Belle with a grin.

"Haven't seen you for, let's see – four days!" said Ruby brightly. "Where have you been?"

"At home," said Belle coyly, selecting a straw to drink her tea. Ruby smirked.

"You're looking well on it, whatever it is," she remarked. "Come on, confess! The only sex I'm having at the moment is vicarious. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing that's fit for your poor, innocent ears," said Belle airily, then giggled, blushing, and Ruby snorted. Loudly.

"Fine, I'll get the details out of you tomorrow after a few drinks," she declared, then looked anxious. "You are coming, right? Girls' night isn't on hold just because your immortal lover is back on the scene?"

"Of course I'm coming!" protested Belle. "I'm looking forward to a night out." She grinned wickedly, sucking tea through her straw. "I could do with a rest."

"No doubt," muttered Ruby. "So, what are you up to today?"

Belle sighed, stirred her drink. "I have to go and see Father," she muttered.

"D'you think he'll have…" Ruby began, and it was Belle's turn to snort.

"Changed?" she scoffed. "No. I'm guessing he turned the air blue when he heard Rumple was back." She sighed again. "But I'd like to make things up with him, so I'll try."

* * *

Belle spent the rest of the morning at the library, sorting books, but as midday approached she steeled herself and left for the flower shop. She hesitated outside for a moment, then took a deep breath and entered, pushing aside hanging ferns and inhaling the clean scent of growing things. He was serving someone at the cash register, and his face lit up as he saw her. He hurriedly completed the transaction and Belle stepped forward as the customer left.

"Father," she said quietly, and he rushed at her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Oh Belle, I've missed you so much!" he said, his voice muffled by her hair. "I didn't think he'd let you come!"

She rolled her eyes with a rueful smile, hugging him, and he stepped back, taking her hands in his and looking her up and down.

"You look very well, I must say," he admitted. "Beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, Papa," she smiled, squeezing his hands. "I'm happy."

His face clouded over then, and she sighed inwardly, before his expression cleared.

"Lunch!" he announced. "Come on, Granny's – my treat!"

She enjoyed lunch; they kept the conversation light and he didn't refer to her relationship with Gold, so when they left and walked back to the shop she felt that they had turned a corner. Perhaps he would accept her choice after all.

"Belle," he said quietly as they entered the shop. "I'm trying to understand, I am. It's just – he's the Dark One."

"Yes," she said gently. "And he's Rumple. He's very good to me, Papa."

"Sometimes I wonder if he says things just to upset me," he said awkwardly, taking off his cap and running his hand over his head. He grimaced, looked at the floor, at anywhere but her. "Have you and he – ?" he asked nervously, and Belle threw up her hands, shaking her head.

"Oh, we are _not_ having this conversation!" she said firmly, and he reached for her.

"Darling, I just…"

"Father, honestly! Why are you asking me this?"

"I just want to understand…"

"You want to know if we're sleeping together, is that it?" she snapped. "Yes! We're sleeping together. We have been since the curse broke. Happy?"

"No," he said sadly. "I can't bear to think of it."

"Then why ask?" she demanded, shaking off his hand. "I'm not a child, Father!"

"He didn't even have the decency to marry you," he muttered, and she planted fists on hips, glaring at him.

"So, a ring and a piece of paper, and you'd have given him your blessing?" she asked sardonically. "Don't be a hypocrite! And stop pretending this is the Enchanted Forest and you have to protect my honour. I'm not some blushing virgin! It's twenty-first century America and I do what I want with my own body, thank you very much!"

He recoiled as if she had slapped him, and looked so upset she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

"Oh Papa, I don't want to fight," she whispered, and he hugged her back, nodding agreement and mumbling an apology.

"When will I see you again?" he asked, as they drew apart, and she took his hand.

"Papa, I want us to be as close as we were back home," she said gently. "I know we've had our differences, but surely we can work on those?" Her eyes were pleading, and he nodded shortly.

"I'll do my best," he said stiffly. "I know you're a grown woman and I can't live your life or tell you what to do, but I wanted better for you, darling."

She frowned, exasperated. He'd wanted _Gaston_ for her, of all people. "Is that doing your best? Why don't you come to dinner and get to know him?"

"Belle, I won't sit down at the dinner table with that man. He's a manipulative bastard that only profits from human suffering!"

"Father, please!" She was annoyed. "You don't even know him. He's a good man. He's changed so much. We love each other and we're meant to be together, I know it. I _feel_ it."

"You have no experience of love!" he snapped. "How can you know what you want?"

Belle pulled away, folding her arms beneath her breasts angrily.

"Father, if we're going to have this same argument every time…"

He sighed and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry Belle," he said tiredly. "I don't want to fight either. I – acknowledge your choice. Just don't ask me to approve of it. No-one will ever make me believe that the Dark One is capable of love."

He was upset at the hurt expression on her face, and reached for her in vain as she stormed out, slamming the door.


	5. Chapter 5

The weather had been dreadful for days, but at last a break in the clouds brought some sunshine, despite the chill in the air as winter approached. Belle had cleaned thoroughly throughout the day, and after they had eaten a late lunch she joined Rumple in the library, choosing a book to read while he was spinning. An hour or so passed in comfortable silence, but he found it difficult to keep his mind on what he was doing. He watched her, hair gleaming like brushed copper in the late afternoon sunlight that shone through one of the windows. She was sitting in a soft leather armchair with her shoes off and her feet curled underneath her, wearing a dress of dark green wool, tight in the bodice and with soft white lace at the cuffs and around the bosom, reminding him of snow-covered pine trees. She was biting her lower lip absently as she read, the tips of her small white teeth pressing against the deep pink softness, and he watched her, fascinated, turning the spinning wheel almost without thought. He wanted to take that lip between his own and treasure its soft fullness, press his mouth to hers and explore the warmth and taste of her. She let out a tiny sigh, stretching slightly, the tip of her tongue briefly moistening her lips. He swallowed hard. Without warning she suddenly raised her eyes to his, devastating pools of blue ringed with sooty lashes, and he gave a start of surprise before immediately dropping his own. It was a minute or so before he looked at her again, and although she had turned back to her book, a small smile was playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Did you want something, Rumple?" she asked quietly, looking up at him again. "You only have to ask, you know."

"Would you make us some tea, dearie?" he asked, with relief, and she continued to smile as she put aside her book, pulled on her shoes and trotted from the room. He leant his head against the spinning wheel with a sigh and called himself every name for idiot he could think of.

When she returned with the tray of tea things, he was glad to accept a cup from her, to give him something to concentrate on. She leaned close as she placed it on the stool beside him, the scent of roses wafting from her. He was reminded vividly of her hugging him after he had let the thief escape, the warm softness of her pressing against him, her fragrant hair brushing his face, and her skin, soft and smooth as silk against his cheek. Her fingers touched his as he reached for the cup and he started as if she had scalded him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, amused, and sat back down as he nodded silently. "You're not used to company, are you?"

"Company," he said, with distaste, "means somebody wanting something from me, which is only of any interest if they have something _I _want."

Belle smoothed her skirts. "Well, you already gave me what I wanted, so I have no ulterior motive. There's no need to be so jumpy."

"I'm not – ". He broke off at her smile. To his relief, he suddenly felt that he needed to be elsewhere; Regina wanted his help. He stood up quickly and Belle gave a start of surprise.

"I have some business to attend to," he said abruptly. "I'll be back later."

Belle barely had time to open her mouth before he vanished.

* * *

To take her mind off her argument with her father, Belle kept busy, tidying up the last of the books that had been donated by the townsfolk, updating the library catalogue and putting them on the required shelves. She thought about other titles she wanted to acquire, and started making a list on the office computer, making a mental note to ask Rumple if she could send off for some of the more important ones. The children's section was somewhat sparse, and there were several classic novels missing. She jumped as her phone rang loudly, and picked it up.

"Belle?" Her father. She frowned.

"Yes?" Her voice was acidic.

"Belle, I'm sorry about earlier. Please – let me make it up to you. I won't mention – him – again, I promise."

She sighed. "Okay, what do you want to do?"

"Can we meet after work?" he asked. "Granny's, or – "

"That's fine," she interrupted. "I'll shut the library up around five."

"Okay, then I'll be there." He rang off, and she sat for a moment, her face pensive. She wanted to be on good terms with him, wanted her whole new extended family, as she saw it, to get along, but she couldn't see how that was to be achieved in the near future. She picked up a stack of books and carried them to the shelves, and was startled by a grating noise and what sounded like a muffled shriek which seemed to come from beneath her. Belle listened intently, but heard nothing further. Shrugging, she turned back to her work, shelving each book in its place.

* * *

There were further strange noises throughout the afternoon. At first, she thought one of the mining tunnels must run under the library, but then she remembered that the tunnels turned away from that area and headed towards the town hall. At four-thirty the noises were growing louder, and she became concerned. She slipped out of the library, jogged over to the sheriff's station, and asked for David. She had to wait some time to speak with him, as he was dealing with another matter. He had a harassed look on his face when he came through from the sheriff's office, but he smiled when he saw her. Belle explained the situation in a few sentences, and he looked puzzled.

"What does it sound like?" he asked, and she made a face.

"Sort of a scraping, shrieking noise," she said uncertainly. "I'm not sure if it's metal on metal or if it's something – alive."

He looked worried then. "You mean, something from our world?"

"Perhaps Cora left us more than some spells and magic potions," she suggested, and his face turned grim.

"That would not surprise me in the least," he said flatly, and buckled on his sword-belt along with his gun holster. "After you, Belle."

They made their way quickly back to the library, Belle pulling out her phone as she walked. The door to the library was ajar, but she couldn't recall leaving it open when she had left.

"I'd better call Father, tell him I'm going to be late," she said. "We planned to meet at Granny's at five."

David looked over his shoulder at her. "Well, it's gone five now."

"I know," she listened to the ringing at the other end of the line as he pushed open the library door, and stopped, surprised, as she heard an echo of the ring within the library itself. She hung up the phone.

"That's weird," she said slowly. "Papa? Are you there?"

"Belle…" David's voice was strange, his gaze fixed on a bundle of clothes on the floor. She frowned, trying to see past him to what it was. The ringing was coming from beneath it, and she stepped around David before he could grab her.

"I don't – " She noticed the jeans, the familiar figure, the baseball cap lying on the floor several feet away. Then she noticed the blood, spreading in a thick pool around the body. _The body_. The air seemed to disappear from her lungs and she stumbled, David reaching for her. Her foot slipped as she trod in the blood – oh dear Gods, she was _standing_ in it! There was a terrible high ringing in her ears, drowning out everything else, as though she had been too close to an explosion.

"Belle, go outside." She could hear David speaking as though from a million miles away, but she took no notice. She bent to take the shoulder of the figure on the ground and, with a strength she hadn't realised she possessed, she turned it over. Shock hit her like a physical blow as his dear face stared upwards, his blue eyes wide, sightless and terrified. She heard a strange moaning, keening sound and took a while to realise that she was the one making it. Hands grasped her shoulders roughly, spinning her around, away from that terrible sight, the white face and the dull eyes and the red, gaping hole in his chest. David propelled her from the library and around to Granny's, and she walked with him in a daze, barely hearing as he explained to Ruby what had happened and drove the two of them to Gold's house. Once inside, Ruby sat Belle down on the sofa and rifled through Gold's liquor cabinet, pulling out the brandy and pouring Belle a generous measure.

"Drink that," she admonished, and Belle obeyed meekly. Ruby poured her another, and, after a shrug, one for herself. She tried calling Gold, tried calling Emma, but her calls simply rang out with no answer. She hung up, frustrated, and turned back to her friend.

"Belle, I'm so sorry!" she said, close to tears. Belle did not respond, merely gazed at nothing, her eyes far-off and dull. Ruby put a hand on her shoulder, making Belle turn slowly to face her.

"Is there anything I can get you?" asked Ruby, and Belle shook her head.

"I think," she said slowly and calmly. "That I'll go upstairs now. When Rumple gets back, will you tell him where I am?"

"Of course! I tried calling him, but – ," Ruby broke off as Belle stood up and made her way stiffly up the stairs, brandy glass in hand, the half-empty bottle clutched in her other.

* * *

The spell took over a day and a half to complete, by the end of which both Gold and Emma were exhausted, but pleased with their work. Enchanting the town line that ran out over the ocean had been tricky; Gold had conjured a platform for them to stand on, which had meant dividing the flows of his magic. Emma had had to take more control over the spell itself during this period, and it had left her drained, yet exhilarated. She now stood on the outer edge of the line, looking inwards.

"See, I know it's there," she said, looking in vain for the town. "But I can't actually see it. Even the sign is gone."

Gold smiled wearily, stowing both wands back in his inside pocket. "And if you hadn't cast the spell, you wouldn't be able to enter," he added. "The road simply loops around the town and continues on the other side. One of my more ingenious spells, if I say so myself." He grinned at her. "Good work, Emma. I'm proud of you."

Emma was absurdly pleased at the compliment and rare use of her first name, and returned the smile. "Come on then." she patted his shoulder and started making her way towards the car. "First round at Granny's is on me, if we can stay awake long enough."

* * *

Gold turned the Cadillac into the main street and they immediately saw a small crowd gathered outside the clock tower, an ambulance parked on the street and David shouting and waving people back.

"Something's happened," said Emma, at once, and Gold pulled the car over, his heart thumping with fear, all weariness gone. The library. If anything had happened to Belle... Emma guessed what he was thinking, and put her hand on his arm.

"Stay calm," she said gently. "We don't know anything yet."

His nod was curt, and he wrenched open the car door and got out. A trolley was being wheeled from the library towards the ambulance; a body lay on it fully-covered with a sheet. Someone was dead, then. He strode as quickly as he could to the ambulance and David held up a hand.

"Gold," he said warningly. "You can relax. It's not her. She's safe."

Relief washed over him, and he let out a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Who is it?" asked Emma.

"Moe French," said David grimly, and Gold felt a stab of sorrow for Belle. She wouldn't get to make things up with her father.

"How did it happen?" he asked quietly, and David pulled a face. He stopped the paramedics loading the trolley into the ambulance, and drew back the sheet. Emma gasped, and Gold took in the blood-stained hole in the chest, broken ribs protruding from it like rusted railings, the sightless eyes.

"The heart looks to be completely gone," said David. "We'll know more when Whale's done the autopsy. He did some preliminary investigations here in the library, and I've been collecting evidence since yesterday when the body was discovered. I thought it best not to move it until that was finished." He looked at Emma. "I could use your help."

"The heart," said Emma flatly. "It can't be Regina. Not after everything she's -"

Gold shook his head. "This wasn't taken by magic," he said. "This has been ripped out physically, while he was still alive." He turned to David. "I take it no trace of the heart has been found?" At David's nod of confirmation he continued. "And have there been any other mysterious deaths while we were away?"

David's expression was shocked. "Yes, seven. They just seemed to collapse, though. Whale originally thought it was heart attacks, but they were all young men, none past forty. That, and the fact that they all happened at the same time… Do you know what this is?"

"Not yet," Gold said grimly. "But the clues help to narrow down the list of suspects."

"I'll start searching for whatever caused this," said David. "Get some rest. I have a feeling we'll need your help."

Gold turned to face them both. "I suggest you warn people to be on their guard and not to go anywhere alone, until we figure out what caused this. Now, where's Belle?"

"Ruby took her to your place," said David. He hesitated, then added: "Belle – was the one that found him."

* * *

Rumple found that he liked having the curtains open. Sun streaming through the windows bathed the great hall in a cheerful light and glinted off the gold thread spooling from the spinning wheel. It picked out copper highlights in Belle's hair and lit up her creamy skin. She was polishing the long table in front of him, her marvellous little rear end wiggling from side to side as she did so, and he was enjoying the view. He frowned as his foresight suddenly gave him warning of what, or rather who, was coming to the castle.

"Belle, do you recall that delicious cake you made for me last week?" he asked, and Belle turned around with a beautiful smile. He decided that he should make her smile as often as possible.

"Would you like me to make another?" she asked, pleased that he had enjoyed her baking, and he returned her smile.

"If you would be so kind."

She nodded, trotting happily from the room, and he stood, stretching. Now that he knew that she would be downstairs in the kitchen for a couple of hours, he could attend to his visitors. He strolled casually to the entrance hall and leant back against the round table, waiting. After a minute or so he waved his hand theatrically and the great door swung open, revealing a heavyset, middle-aged man and a tall, handsome young man, fist raised to pound upon the door. Sir Maurice and the fiancé, Gaston. Posturing fools, the pair of them. Maurice swallowed hard upon seeing him, clearly scared. The boy simply glared, seeming unafraid. But then, he was not all that bright.

"And what can I do for you two gentlemen?" inquired Rumple.

"We're here for Belle," snapped Maurice, his voice wobbling only a little. "You've no right to keep her here!"

"Indeed?" Rumple tapped his lips thoughtfully as anger flared in his belly. He tamped it down. "Are you seriously asking me to break a deal?"

"This man is her fiancé," added Maurice, as though that made a difference. Rumple tutted sadly, and addressed himself to Gaston.

"It'd never last, dearie," he said kindly. "I suggest you find someone as vacant and vapid as you are."

Gaston hesitated, seemingly unsure whether he'd just been insulted.

"I want my daughter back!" Maurice barked. "She didn't know what she was agreeing to, she…"

"She knew exactly what she was agreeing to," interrupted Rumple. "And it was with her that the bargain was struck, not you, I might add."

Maurice took a deep breath. "Have you – touched her?" he asked weakly, and Rumple giggled delightedly.

"What a high opinion you have of your only daughter!" he chuckled. "Do you really think that such a virtuous, pure young maiden would offer herself to the Dark One?"

"Not willingly," snapped Gaston, his fists opening and closing with rage.

"Ah!" Rumple tapped his fingertips together, amused. "So what you're asking is have I plucked the fair young rosebud, do I ravish her nightly in my dungeon?" He leant forward, giving them his most unpleasant smile. "What do _you_ think?" he asked lasciviously.

Maurice went white, and Gaston launched himself forward with a strangled cry, resulting in Rumple waving his hand with a bored expression and Gaston catapulting back out of the door.

"You – you've ruined her!" babbled Maurice, anger and shame making a red blush spread up from his neck. "You're a beast! My only daughter! Now, give her back to me, you've had your fun!"

"I think not," said Rumple cheerfully. "I'm full of ideas, you know, and there are many things we have yet to try!" A statement which could, of course, mean anything from flower-arranging to the most depraved acts known to man. He watched as they jumped to the worst conclusion possible, and leaned back again, folding his arms, enjoying the sickened look on Maurice's face. People were always ready to believe the worst of him. It made them easy to manipulate.

"In addition," he added. "I should warn you that, should you seek to break Belle's deal with me, I can simply return the ogres to your village. I doubt she'd thank you for that."

Gaston pushed himself to his feet. "I will come back!" he spat. "Belle is mine! You're nothing but a monster!"

Rumple decided how he was going to kill the man. Not the father though; Belle wouldn't like that. "And how do you propose to take her away from the hideous beast?" he enquired, gesturing extravagantly. Gaston's mouth opened and closed, his expression vacant.

"I won't let her stay here, not while I have breath in my body!" he managed eventually.

"Well, we'll have to see what I can do about that," said Rumple, with a nasty grin, and the door slammed, shutting them out.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N Thought I'd better put a disclaimer in at this point, so here goes:**

**I do not own Once Upon a Time (obviously, this is a FanFiction upload)**

**I do not own Mr Gold or Rumple (if I did, they'd never get out of my house, and I - well, there wouldn't be much housework done, let me tell you)**

**There - happy, lawyers?**

**So on to more pleasurable things - thank you all so much for the reviews, and keep 'em coming. I'm blown away by your kind words. You will see in the next couple of instalments that there are hints about terrible things Regina and Gold did whilst in Neverland (as well as the hints Emma has already dropped about Regina). I'm pulling together the bones of a Neverland-based story in my head, but I haven't quite decided yet what those terrible things should be, so if you have any ideas, let me know. You all rock!**

**So, on with the tale...**

* * *

Gold pushed open the front door; the house was dark and silent but for a light at the end of the hallway. Ruby was in the kitchen, making tea, and she turned to face him with large, frightened eyes as he entered.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly.

"Upstairs." Ruby bit her lip.

"And how is she?"

"She won't eat," said Ruby sadly. "She won't sleep. I don't even think she's cried. I tried to comfort her but she doesn't want me to. She doesn't want to see anyone. I don't know what else to do."

She looked exhausted, close to tears, and he sighed, shaking his head

"Thank you for being with her, Ruby," he said gently. "You can go now, I'll take it from here."

Ruby nodded, and put on her jacket. He went to show her out, and she turned to him in the doorway.

"Mr Gold – what was it?" she asked, fear on her face. "What could do that?"

"I don't know yet," he said truthfully. "But I'll find out, and I'll stop it."

She nodded, looking somewhat reassured, and he shut the door behind her and made his way up the stairs.

Gold pushed open the bedroom door, turning to see Belle sitting on the bed with her knees raised and her arms folded across them, a frightened child.

"Hey," he said gently. Icy fingers clutched at his heart as she raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were enormous in her face, pools of pale blue, full of pain and somehow dulled. There were dark smudges beneath them like bruises, thumb-smears of charcoal on her paper-white skin. Her lips, normally a deep, dusky pink, had faded to a pale rose. She appeared shrunken, lessened; there was a terrible fragility about her appearance; her wrists seemed as thin and hollow as birds' bones. She took a deep breath.

"My f – father is dead." It had the sound of something being said for the first time.

"I know." He didn't say he was sorry. "How do you feel?" She shrugged slightly.

"I feel – like a ghost," she whispered dully. "Numb. Nothing. Like – my soul doesn't fill my skin." She looked down at her fingers, pressing the tips against her thumbs one after the other as though testing her sense of touch.

"It will get better," he said, his voice calm, and she glared at him, eyes glinting, suddenly furious.

"What the hell would you know about it?" she demanded.

"I saw my father killed in front of me when I was a young boy," he said softly, and she looked down again, once more listless, uninterested.

"I didn't know."

"It was a long time ago." He moved closer to her. "How long is it since you slept?"

She rubbed her face distractedly. "I don't want to sleep."

"You must sleep, Belle."

"I told you I don't _want_ to!" she snapped, glaring at him. "And don't you _dare_ use magic to make me!" She slapped his hand away as he reached for her.

"Sweetheart, I'm just trying – "

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me!" She bounced up from the bed, staring him down, her eyes flashing. "Where the hell were you? You were supposed to protect me! I _saw_ him!" She was breathing deeply, her chest heaving and her eyes bright with unshed tears. He tried to touch her again and she shook him off, pacing back and forth and running her fingers through her hair in agitation.

"I didn't know…" he tried again, but she rounded on him.

"Shut up!" she snapped, her eyes blue fire. "Where was your bloody foresight this time? Or did you see this coming and think it didn't matter? Did you think things would be easier with him out of the way? Did you want to hurt me?" She was pacing again. "Did you want him out of my life? Are you so insecure that you need me all to yourself?"

He had never seen her so angry, and his heart lurched. She couldn't seriously think that, could she? He moved towards her slowly, as if she were a wild animal that was easily spooked. He reached for her arm and she wrenched it away, her pacing increasing in speed, her breathing heavy.

"Belle…" he began desperately, as she span to face him, but she put her finger on his lips, silencing him. To his shock, she reached up and kissed him hard, pulling his head down on hers. Before he could react she unbuttoned his jacket and tugged it off, pressing herself against him, shoving him back against the wall as she pulled off his tie. The kiss deepened and became even harder, painful, her mouth pushing his upper lip into his teeth, drawing blood, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, tugging at it and making him wince. He tore his mouth away from hers, trying to push her back.

"Belle, this isn't – ". He broke off at the expression on her face, hard and bright, full of pain and sorrow. She kissed him again, roughly, tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

"I want to forget," she whispered. "Make me forget, damn you!"

* * *

Much, much later, Belle tiptoed back into the darkened room, placed two glasses of wine on the bedside table and slipped into bed, snuggling against him. She ran her fingers delicately over the raised reddened lines on his back where her darkly-polished nails had raked him, and he winced slightly. She had poured her anger, fear and pain into him over the past few hours, her love fierce and violent, and he had let her. She had still not cried, nor slept, and he was beginning to wonder if she would let _him _sleep. Her nails had drawn blood in places; deep crimson beads had formed and now spotted the white sheets beneath them. It was all disturbingly familiar to him, but he knew that it was pain and shock causing the transformation, not the return of her cursed self. This was a transient thing, and he would have her back as soon as her grieving was over. Assuming he survived until then. It was uncomfortable, realising that Lacey would never entirely leave her now. She kissed along his exposed shoulder into his hair, biting the back of his neck playfully and making him shiver.

"Belle," he said wearily. "If I beg you for mercy on bended knee will you let me sleep?"

"Don't be such a cry-baby, it's not even ten-thirty. I can see the clock."

"Then I trust you will be able to accurately record my time of death."

"Hey!" she said sternly, sitting up. "You already played the death card once with me, you can't use it again!" He chuckled softly, and rolled onto his back, wrapping his arm around her as she lay back down with her head on his shoulder.

"We need to protect ourselves from anyone that wants to harm us," she announced. "Regina, for instance. If she comes after us again, we need to be ready." Her fingers walked up over his face, gently tracing the lines around his eyes. "What is she up to now, d'you think?"

"I don't know." He kissed her fingertips as she drew them near his mouth. "But she still blames me for Henry. I doubt she'll rest until she gets her vengeance."

"What will you do?" she asked, sliding her arm back around his waist, and he looked down at her.

"I haven't decided yet." He didn't want her to move; the feel of her skin against his was incredible. He kissed her forehead gently.

"Why don't you just kill her?" she asked mildly, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, making her sit up. He was staring at her incredulously

"_What?_"

She blinked and shrugged. "She tried to curse Emma, she would have helped her mother kill everyone, she made me into Lacey – why don't you kill her before she hurts anyone else?"

He closed his eyes in pain. There was the final proof. He didn't look at her, but at a spot somewhere off in the distance, his eyes sorrowful.

"As I recall, you made me promise not to."

"Well, I take it back!" she snapped.

"Belle, you don't know what you're saying."

"Yes I do!" She sat up, annoyed. "I am sick of losing everyone I love! I lost my mother to an assassin's crossbow bolt, I lost my brother to the ogres, I lost my father to who-knows-what – I can't lose you as well!" She lay back down. "She won't stop, you know," she pointed out. "She won't stop until one of us is killed. So kill her first."

"Belle…"

"Okay, then what if she comes after me again?" she demanded.

"Then I'll protect you. I promise, she won't lay a finger on you."

"No, she'll do far worse!" she objected. "She made me into a whore!"

"She did that to hurt me," he explained patiently, and she nodded, calming slightly.

"It must have been awful for you, seeing me the opposite of what you loved," she said quietly, and he sighed, squeezing her.

"She thought Lacey would reject me and sleep her way through the town," he said bitterly. "That would have been bad enough, but what was far worse is that I had to be the man you hated, in order to keep Lacey." He kissed her forehead, hesitating before the need to be honest with her forced him to speak. "A part of me enjoyed it," he admitted. "Even though I knew it would hurt you, the real you. And to be that close to you and never truly have you as my own, well…" He left the rest unsaid.

She looked up at him. He was smiling at her, but his smile was desperately sad.

"She really knows how to hurt you," she said softly. His smile was wry.

"I taught her well," he said. "When she told me you were dead I felt that it was my fault, that I had destroyed my darling Belle. That wasn't enough for her. She had to destroy you all over again." He gave another faint, sad smile. Impulsively she touched his cheek and kissed him softly, the kiss deepening as she slid on top of him. This was something she could understand, something that would help them both forget everything else for a while.

* * *

Past midnight, after Belle had finally fallen into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion, Gold made his way downstairs with the empty wine glasses, still somewhat shocked by the events of the past few days. Their relationship had been a close one since they had first been reunited in Storybrooke; Belle was very tactile and enjoyed intimacy, but this… He rubbed his eyes tiredly. The grief was no doubt presenting in strange ways. He poured boiling water into the teapot and pondered his options. Belle needed answers, but first she needed to accept what had happened and allow herself to grieve. He carried the tray of tea things back upstairs on one arm and placed them on the dresser, pouring a cup for himself and sipping it slowly as he looked at her. Belle was sleeping on her belly, arms around her pillow, a lock of dark hair curled across her pale cheek. He smiled tenderly and brushed it back behind her ear with his forefinger. She was so beautiful it made his heart ache. He ran his finger gently down the groove of her spine, watching goosebumps run over her as she sighed slightly, the corners of her mouth turning upwards. Watching her sleep, he could pretend for a moment she was _his _Belle, that nothing had changed for her. He needed to save her, as she had saved him. He needed to find her answers. He drained his cup and made his way downstairs to the library, studying the shelves and rifling through boxes of books until he found the half-dozen or so that he needed to make a start on finding out what had killed her father. He pondered David's words. Seven deaths, all at the same time. This was ringing a bell for him, and he thought of the sacrifice of seven, mentioned in one of his older books. Not a spell he had ever used himself, but still… He pulled out the book in question, and flicked through the pages. Yes. Seven had to die at once, to open a door to the underworld, enough to let something pass through. He drummed his fingers on the desk. Something had been roused by this spell, something dark. That was what had killed Moe in the library. He suddenly had an idea of what he was dealing with, and snapped the book shut, his face grim.

* * *

Gold was dozing in a chair in the study, a book open on his lap, when the phone rang shrilly. He awoke fully with a sigh and fumbled the receiver into his hand, noting that it was still dark outside.

"Gold."

"It got another!" Emma's desperate voice chased away the last shreds of his weariness, and he sat up.

"Who was it?"

"Walter." Her voice broke a little. "Leroy and the others found him. Mary Margaret's heart-broken."

"What do you need from me?" he asked quietly.

"We need to find out what the _hell _this thing is and stop it! Meet us at the library. That's where the first death was."

"On my way."

* * *

"Whatever it was came up from beneath the clock tower," David explained to Gold as they strode into the library with Emma. David pointed to the elevator, the floor of which had mostly disappeared.

"It's big," remarked Emma stonily, and her father nodded.

"When I killed the dragon, I didn't see anything else down there," she said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps it's a present from Cora," said David dryly. "Or perhaps…"

"Regina," said Gold softly. David shrugged, and Emma shook her head.

"I don't think she would – what's in it for her? She knows she'd lose Henry for good if we found out. She has too much to lose to risk attacking the town."

Gold raised an eyebrow. "And she has him now, does she? Visiting rights, shared caring responsibilities, _et cetera_?"

"It's for his own good," said Emma flatly. "I can't let her near him, not after what she did."

Gold showed his teeth. "Then she has _nothing_ to lose." Emma fidgeted uncomfortably, but gave him a challenging stare.

"Any ideas what this is, Gold?" asked David.

"Not yet." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I suggest we go down and see what we can find out."

David had brought ropes and harnesses to lower them down the elevator shaft, and within a short while they stepped out into the vast cavern beneath the library. Gold could feel the tang of magic in the air, and stiffened.

"Keep your voices low," he whispered. "And stay close. There's danger here."

"The dragon's gone," objected Emma, and he smiled.

"You killed it," he corrected. "Doesn't mean it's not still here in some form."

"_What?_"

"The dragon was Maleficent, a sorceress, and one-time friend of Regina."

Emma stopped, a shocked look on her face. "I killed a _person_?"

"A dragon," he corrected. "You weren't to know."

"But _you_ did!" she said accusingly. "And Regina did! She'd let that happen to a _friend_?"

"To save Henry, yes," he said calmly, and she threw up her hands.

"And you ask me why I won't let her near him!"

"Perhaps we can argue about this later," suggested David. "_After_ we've stopped the mystery terror killing our people."

"A wise suggestion." They spread out, David and Emma flicking on flashlights and Gold creating a ball of light to float above him, casting an eerie, bluish-white glow around the cavern. Gold spotted something strange and bent down, picking up a pile of ash with his gloved hand. There were seven piles, arranged in a circle. He frowned.

"The seven that died suddenly," he said. "Who were they?"

David shrugged as he shone his flashlight over the floor ahead of him. "I have a list - they weren't men I knew, but then this town is bigger than you think. I can get you the list."

"That would be appreciated." Gold let the ash trickle through his fingers.

"Over here," whispered Emma, and he straightened up. She was pointing at the dust on the ground at her feet. Something had been dragged through it; something large.

"Where was the dwarf killed?" asked Gold quietly.

"In the mines," said David, and realised what Gold was thinking. "It's in the tunnels under Storybrooke."

"It'll take more than the three of us to cover that," said Emma flatly.

"I think we should find out what it is we're dealing with first," said Gold. "When did this unfortunate event take place?"

"Whale thinks around five o'clock yesterday evening," said David. "The others had knocked off early – it's Tom's birthday. It was Walter's job to check everything was locked up."

"Five o'clock," mused Gold. "Three days on from the last death."

"Does that mean something?" asked Emma hopefully.

"Perhaps." He looked them both up and down. "I think I'll be more help on the research side of this particular enterprise. I suggest you two go back and start organising search parties. I would also suggest that you do not send out those search parties at present, as we don't know what it is we face."

"But someone else could die!" objected David fiercely.

"I believe the townsfolk have another…" Gold looked at his watch. "…sixty-two hours before this thing feeds again. We should enjoy it while we can."

"Then you _do_ know what it is!" said Emma. He shrugged.

"I have suspicions, nothing more," he said. "I'll have answers before our time runs out."

* * *

That evening, the town was subdued. Granny's had been quiet, and once the last customer had gone, Ruby locked the door of the diner and checked her make-up in her handbag mirror, reapplying bright red lipstick and smacking her lips together as she admired the result. Leroy had invited her to the Rabbit Hole to drink to Walter with the other dwarfs. He had not been crying, but she could see the loss and despair on all of their faces, even on Tiny's, the newest member of the crew. She had agreed readily. Mary Margaret had said, somewhat tearfully, that she would be there and Ruby wanted to see how her friend was bearing up. She shoved the mirror back into her bag and trotted down the street towards the Rabbit Hole, looking forward to her first drink of the evening. The inside of the club was warm and humid from the milling bodies of its patrons and redolent of spilt beer and nachos. She sat at the bar to order a drink and heard raucous laughter emanating from one of the booths, a loud repetitive chanting of "down in one!" Grinning, Ruby turned and, to her shock, saw Belle draining a pint of beer to the cheers of numerous onlookers, including Doctor Whale, Mary Margaret, the dwarfs and a handful of others she knew by sight but not by name. Belle turned the empty pint glass upside down on her head and cheered with the others, then fell into Leroy's lap, planting a kiss on his cheek. Leroy looked utterly terrified.

"Now your turn!" Belle shouted, shoving Whale in the chest. Ruby noticed with some amusement that his hand was on her thigh. He winked at her and began drinking as the others chanted, and Ruby slid off her stool and walked over to take Belle's hand.

"Ruby!" Belle grabbed at her. "You have to go next!"

Ruby glanced at Mary Margaret, who shrugged, tossing back her own drink of scotch on the rocks. No help there.

"How about we play a different drinking game?" Ruby suggested.

"She's having fun here," said Whale, catching Belle around the waist so that she giggled and fell against him before pushing herself upright.

Ruby bent to whisper in his ear. "Seriously, Viktor, you want to mess with the Dark One's girlfriend?"

His mouth opened and he paled visibly and sat back, holding up his hands to prove he wasn't touching Belle. Ruby gave him a flat look, and nodded. "Come on," she pulled Belle away to another booth and sat her down. "How about a Cosmo?"

"Sure, it's about the only thing I haven't had." Belle's head lolled back against the seat as Ruby headed for the bar and ordered one Cosmopolitan and one cranberry juice in a Cosmo glass for her inebriated friend.

"Haven't seen you around for a while," she said, as she sat back down. "I thought you would have stopped by – after."

Belle took a slurp of her drink. "I've been in bed the whole time."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Ruby's face was sympathetic.

"No, I mean in a good way! It's been fun," Belle giggled. "Poor Rumple, he's convinced I'm trying to kill him. I thought I should let him sleep." She grinned, taking another drink. "For an hour or two, anyway!"

Ruby grinned, amusement shining in her eyes. "I knew I'd get the details out of you sooner or later. You haven't told me a thing since you hooked up. You know, no-one understands what you two have." She shrugged, lifting her glass to her mouth. "Or, more accurately, what you see in him."

Belle leaned back against the upholstery with a sigh. "Well, he's a demon in the sack," she drawled.

Ruby choked, spraying her drink. "Thanks a lot!" she said crossly, wiping Cosmopolitan from her leather trousers as Belle collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"So, come on, tell!" urged Ruby, grinning back at her. "Is he kinky? The great and powerful Rumplestiltskin has_ got_ to be a _little_ bit kinky!" Belle squawked in protest and punched her friend's shoulder as she continued to giggle.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she announced, pushing herself up and still chuckling. "Will you watch my stuff? I'll tell you all about it when I get back." She shoved her bag and jacket at Ruby and made her way gingerly towards the restrooms, wobbling somewhat. Ruby shook her head in amused despair and rummaged in Belle's bag for her phone. She flicked through the call history and pressed redial.

"Mr Gold?" she said. "It's Ruby. I – think you ought to come and collect Belle…"

* * *

Ruby managed, with not a little difficulty, to get Belle to put on her jacket and walk out of the club. The chill night air seemed to make Belle drunker than ever, and she leant heavily on Ruby, complaining about the cold as they stood shivering. Moments later, Gold's Cadillac purred into view and slowed to a stop. He got out of the car, taking in the situation in a moment with a sinking feeling of _déja vu_.

"Time to go home, Belle," he said quietly, and she raised her head to face him, still clinging to Ruby.

"Come and have a drink with me," she countered, her words slurring. Ruby gave him a sympathetic look.

"I think you ought to go now, Belle," she said. "We can pick this up again tomorrow."

"Okay," Belle said meekly. She pushed herself upright, clumsily kissing Ruby's cheek and turning on Gold. "And as for _you_," she announced, jabbing his chest with her finger. "When we get home it's _my_ turn." She poked him again. "I am gonna do things that'll make your _head_ explode!" Another jab. "What do you think of _that_?" She aimed another at him, missed, and stumbled against him. Ruby stifled a giggle.

"I think your drunken eloquence knows no bounds," he said dryly, holding her up. "Ruby, would you please open the door?"

Ruby complied, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and together they managed to get Belle into the passenger seat and buckled in with her bag on her lap. Gold shut the door and turned to Ruby with anger in his eyes.

"How on earth could you let her get like this?" he snapped, and Ruby's mouth fell open.

"Me?" she squeaked indignantly. "She was like this when I got here fifteen minutes ago! You're lucky I _did_ get here, or she'd have ended up in an orgy with Dr Frankenstein and a bunch of dwarfs!"

He sighed, pulled a face, and looked at the floor. "My apologies. Has she said anything interesting?"

Ruby grinned mischievously. "Well, apparently you're a _demon_ in the sack!" she said lightly. "And a bit of a kinky bastard. So yeah, thanks for _those_ nightmares!"

He closed his eyes momentarily with a pained expression and shook his head. "Anything else?" he asked waspishly.

Ruby's face became solemn. "She hasn't mentioned her father. Will she be okay?"

He grimaced. "She's blocking it out. She needs to face her grief and deal with it. I'll try again."

He turned to get into the car, and Ruby put her hand on his arm. "I know you love her," she said seriously. "And I know she loves you. Just – please, go easy on her."

"She doesn't need me to be easy on her," he said grimly. "She needs me to be what everyone thinks I am. And once she's sobered up, that's exactly what she'll get."

* * *

Belle was silent on the drive home, and subdued as he helped her into the house.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said thickly, as they entered the hall.

"Let me help you." He tried to take her jacket but she pushed him away.

"I can go to the bathroom on my own!" she snapped belligerently, and headed for the stairs, bouncing from wall to wall on her way up. He sighed, taking off his coat and listening to her footsteps suddenly quicken as she made her way along the landing. The bathroom door banged backwards against the wall and he heard the unmistakable sound of vomiting. He sighed again, making his way slowly up the stairs. When he reached the bathroom Belle was sprawled by the toilet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and looking very miserable.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said kindly, holding out his hand to help her up. "Why don't you brush your teeth and go to bed?"

She nodded dolefully and set to, splashing her face with water and getting most of it on the floor. He led her to the bedroom when she was done, lying her down and patiently undressing her down to her underwear before pulling the covers over her. He sat on the bed beside her and she looked at him blearily.

"You'll be alright," he said gently. "Alcohol can be a welcome distraction at times. You'll feel better in the morning." He stroked her hair and she sighed, nodded, and mumbled agreement.

In the morning she wished she was dead.

She awoke parched, peeling her tongue from the roof of her mouth and pulling a face at the foul taste. She felt horribly queasy and her body ached all over as she turned, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow. Instantly she groaned as what felt like several hammers smashed into her skull, the blood pounding behind her eyes. The light pressing against her eyelids seemed too harsh to be real, although as she opened one eye gingerly she realised the curtains were still drawn. Slowly, she rolled onto her other side and spotted a tall glass of water on the bedside table, along with – heavens be praised – two white pills. The clock was showing 12:05; it was past midday. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and gulped the tablets, washing them down with water and drinking the remainder of the glass greedily. She fell back with a sigh, waiting for the relentless pounding in her head to ease.

"Good afternoon, sweetheart." He was smiling as he entered, the one who didn't have a headache, whose mouth no doubt didn't taste as though he had been dining in a sewer. She glowered at him for having the audacity to be bringing people breakfast and moving around without pain. He didn't appear to notice her scowl, but sat down beside her, placing a tray containing fresh fruit, warm pastries, orange juice and hot coffee on the bed. Belle grabbed the juice eagerly and drained the glass.

"How are you?" he asked kindly, and she pulled a face.

"I feel like death."

"Did we learn anything last night?"

"Yes!" she snapped. "Don't get into drinking games with dwarfs!"

He nodded, amused. "I have some business to attend to. Will you be alright here for the day?"

"If you go away and leave me alone," she said ungraciously. He appeared to be trying not to laugh, which infuriated her all the more. Despite having no appetite, she poured coffee and took a bite of a pastry so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

**A/N - next time...Gold confronts Regina, Gold confronts Belle, and insults fly thick and fast**


	7. Chapter 7

Belle awoke slowly, groaning as she put her hand to her pounding head. She pushed herself up, her limbs stiff and sore, and remembered that she had been taken prisoner. She had struggled desperately when they had taken her from the wagon, and she remembered being struck on the back of the skull. She felt her head, wincing as her fingers found a lump and matted hair where she had bled. Belle looked around with bleary eyes, taking in her surroundings. She was in a small, stone room, on a simple cot with a pillow and blanket. The room was cool rather than cold, and light was coming in from a small window high on the wall. Belle thought she must be in a tower; she could see nothing but the sky from the window. One of the towers at the Queen's palace, then. She stood up, wobbling a little, and walked around the room. Apart from the bed, a chamber pot, a pitcher and bowl with a cake of soap for washing and a set of towels and clean clothes, the cell was empty, the door of thick oak reinforced with iron bands and locked tight. Belle sat back down, then smiled to herself. This was a temporary incarceration; she knew what she needed to do.

"Rumplestiltskin," she said aloud, and waited for him to appear. Nothing. She frowned. "Rumplestiltskin!" she called, louder, and her heart began to thump harder with fear. Why would he not come? Did he really not want her?

"Well, that's not going to work!" The grating of the lock startled Belle, and she backed away from the door as the Queen entered, resplendent in deep red velvet and a necklace made of strings of garnets on silver wire so thin it was all but invisible. The garnets resembled beads of blood scattered across her throat, and Belle had the sudden, unpleasant thought that Regina had stood too close to the executioner at a beheading. The Queen smiled widely at her.

"He can't hear you," she said pleasantly. "I've cast an enchantment on the tower. I'm afraid you're not going anywhere."

"What do you want with me?" asked Belle stonily, and Regina pursed her lips, pacing back and forth slowly within the cell.

"You're what we might call…leverage," she said. "I never thought I'd have any, but then you came along. If Rumple behaves himself, I may let you go someday."

Belle gave her a flat, disbelieving look. "Doesn't matter what you do," she said witheringly. "He'll come for me, and when he does, I may not be able to stop him from killing you."

Regina smiled again. "He won't be looking for you, dear," she said sympathetically. "I told him you were dead." She clutched her chest and stuck out her lower lip in mock dismay. "It broke his little heart!" She laughed quietly. "Funny – I never knew he had one." She picked up a dark blue tunic from the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, looking it over, her lip curling slightly. "What exactly do you see in him? Is it the power thing?" She eyed Belle curiously, and Belle set her jaw.

"He's my true love," she declared. "Something about which you know nothing."

The smile fell from Regina's face then, and she dropped the dress back on the pile.

"I assure you, you're very wrong," she said quietly. "I've known true love, albeit briefly."

Despite herself, Belle was intrigued. "What happened?" she asked curiously.

"He was murdered." Regina's voice was flat, her face hard, and Belle looked down.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, and Regina seemed to dismiss the matter immediately.

"Well, I think you have bigger problems than worrying about mine right now," she said briskly. "Like I said, you're here until I need you, and dear Rumple has no clue you're still alive." She smiled again. "Quite sad, really. You know, he really does love you."

Belle lifted her chin. "I don't need you to tell me that," she said coldly. "Do your worst, but you won't keep us apart." She glared at Regina, who leant towards Belle, her face inches away.

"Wrong again," she said softly, and swept from the room.

* * *

Days passed slowly in captivity. Belle managed to get Claude, one of the guards, to bring her a book, but even that was taken away when she was caught writing notes on the pages in her own blood and throwing them out of the window in a desperate bid to attract help. She kept a record of her days by marking the wall, and kept active by pacing her cell and exercising. She made an attempt at escape, hitting one of the guards over the head with her heavy pitcher when he brought food. She made it to the foot of the tower stairs before being trapped by another locked door, and then had to endure the indignity of Claude carrying her back up over his shoulder, laughing as he squeezed her buttocks with rough hands. Regina seemed displeased at his man-handling of her, but gave Belle a choice between being chained up or spending a night with Claude. Belle chose the chains. After the incident with the pitcher, her meals were brought by a female servant who neither spoke to her nor met her gaze. Belle was pleased to have no more contact with the leering, odious Claude, but as the months passed and the monotony increased, she grew listless, pale, and ever more depressed.

* * *

Regina busied herself with some paperwork as she waited to hear of the next attack. It was a pity Gold's little girlfriend had been away from the library when the creature made its first appearance. It would be resting now, absorbing the power from the heart it had consumed. She would have to wait a little longer for her vengeance, it seemed, although she calculated it would soon be on its way to choose its next victim. Within the next day or so, perhaps. This slow, drawn-out revenge on the townsfolk was turning out to be fun. She would choose to make her move, to save them, once Emma was dead. The creature needed to consume seven hearts to reach its full size and power. Surely the sheriff would be next. She started at a knock at the door.

"Gold," said Regina flatly, as she held open the door. "What do you want?"

He walked in slowly, his expression neutral.

"I thought I'd ask you if you have any idea what caused the spate of unusual deaths that seem to have occurred while I was away," he said easily, and she frowned.

"I have no idea," she said curtly. "Although I assume everyone will automatically think I had something to do with it, as hearts were ripped out."

"I already told them that wasn't you," he assured her. "I'm interested in finding out what _did_ cause it."

Regina sighed impatiently and brushed past him to replace a file in the cupboard by the door. "I don't know," she said abruptly, as she walked back to her desk. "And as you can see, I have things to do, so unless there's anything else…"

"Actually, there is." He turned briefly towards the cabinet across from her and gestured at the decanter of whisky. "May I?"

She inclined her head and he stood with his back to her, pouring measures into two glasses and turning back to hold one out to her. Immediately she frowned, and reached for the other. He tutted impatiently, but surrendered the glass to her grip.

"Really, dearie, poison isn't my style. If I wanted to kill you I can think of far more satisfying ways of doing it."

"I can't be too careful these days." They both drank, and she looked him up and down with sudden amusement. "You look tired, Rumple. Aren't you getting enough sleep?"

He sighed. "The last few days have been somewhat – wearing, for all concerned," he admitted, and she smiled.

"So your poor, dear Belle turns to you for some cold comfort, does she?" she taunted. "How nice for you." Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement, as she gestured with her glass. "Perhaps that's what _really_ ripped her father's heart from his chest, imagining her with you. I must admit it's a vision _my _mind refuses to hold."

He ignored her gibe. "Why don't you tell me what you did, and I'll leave you in peace," he suggested pleasantly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said dismissively, taking another sip of her drink.

"I know the seven that died at the same time used to be your guards, in another life." he said calmly, watching her. A muscle twitched in one smooth cheek, but her expression remained unchanged, faintly bored. "And we _both_ know that the spell used to kill all seven at once must have been a powerful one." He downed his drink. "I know it wasn't me, so that leaves you."

Regina smirked. "Why don't you ask your new protégée Miss Swan?" she enquired. "As I understand it she's also quite adept at dark magic now – after you manipulated her into being the saviour, of course." She tapped her lips thoughtfully with a finger. "Funny how everyone who gets mixed up with you ends up turning to darkness," she mused, and her smile widened. "I wonder how long it'll be before Belle asks you to teach her something." She put her head to the side, her gaze calculating. "Perhaps she already has."

"Don't play games with me, dearie," he said menacingly. "Tell me what you did, or there will be consequences."

Regina barked a short, humourless laugh. "Like what?" she said witheringly. "You won't kill me, as that would break your promise to your precious Belle." She leaned on the desk, her eyes taunting. "Making promises to her always seems to end badly for you, doesn't it? You promised not to kill Hook, and then look what happened. Ever wonder why it is that you have to suffer this way? Why she can't just accept you for who you truly are?"

His mouth twitched in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps she's the only one who does see what I truly am," he said softly, and she straightened up and laughed again, a look of derision on her face.

"Really?" she said sarcastically. "So we didn't see the _real you_ in Neverland?" She put her hands on her hips. "Have you even told her? Does she even _know_ what you did?" He didn't answer, but a twitch in the corner of his mouth gave her the negative, and she smiled triumphantly. "I thought not. What _would_ she do if she found out?"

"Belle's capacity for understanding and forgiveness is far greater than yours," he said quietly. "As is mine for change."

Regina laughed out loud, her eyes gleaming. "No," she whispered. "You've been full to the brim with dark magic for centuries, and if you think that you can just hide that away for the sake of a pretty girl, you're as deluded as she is." She walked slowly towards him, her smile mocking him. "You're skating around the edge of an abyss, Gold, and you and I both know it'll only take one slip to make you fall, you and that sweet, pure soul you seem so determined to corrupt!"

His hand itched to slap her; he fought to remain calm, pushing his anger down until it was a small, seething ball in the pit of his stomach.

"You did your best to corrupt her, and it didn't work," he said menacingly. "I still need to pay you back for that one, dearie, so you might want to bear that in mind."

Regina curled her lip. "You filthy hypocrite!" she said disgustedly. "Don't tell me you weren't enjoying Lacey's appetites twenty-four-seven, because I know damn well you were! You should be thanking me. I must admit I never expected her to go for you, but I suppose taste is always subjective. I guess she's just as screwed up on that score as Belle." She smirked, sipping her whisky and running the tip of her tongue over her lips. "Love is the strangest thing, don't you find?"

"Yes indeed," he agreed, with a cold smile. "All the men you've ever loved seem to get their hearts ripped from their chests." He tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow curiously. "I wonder how long it'll take before the same thing happens to Henry."

Regina's nostrils flared, and there was anger in her eyes. "Henry will always be kept safe!" she snapped. "I will always put him first! Now if you don't mind, Gold, I have things to do." She turned away from him dismissively.

"I'll find out what you're up to," he said, smiling with effort. "And when I do, you'll beg for my help. Believe it, Regina."

"Good luck with that," she said, her expression innocent. "When you find nothing I'll be happy to accept your apology, but in the meantime, I'm busy." She sat back down at her desk and riffled through some papers, tapping her pen against her deep red lips as she read.

* * *

Gold left the town hall in a towering rage that he worked hard to repress as he drove out of the town centre to the cemetery. By the time he had parked the car and walked to Regina's mausoleum his normal calm exterior had returned, but he was still furious with Regina for her digs at Belle and her refusal to explain her actions. He knew she was behind the attacks; he had been getting flashes of something that he was unable to make out, but he knew that Regina was to blame for the deaths. He hesitated outside the door to the vault, and reached out with his hand, feeling the air delicately. As expected, she had cast spells of protection, spells that would alert her to any intruder. He could simply burst through them, of course, but it would be easier if he didn't have to deal with her just now; he wasn't sure he could trust himself to be restrained. He pushed at the barrier experimentally, feeling it bend before him, and looked for the way in, the part of the spell that could be unravelled. Having taught Regina the majority of spells that she performed, he knew her style and, more importantly, how her spell could be temporarily unpicked. He found the weak spot, and used a sliver of magic to pull apart the barrier, creating a hole wide enough to step through. Once inside, he released the magic, the hole closing up behind him, the barrier restored. With any luck, the subtlety of his work would not have triggered the alarm built into the spell, which was designed to respond to an all-out attack. Smiling to himself, he opened the door to the mausoleum, and made his way down into the vault. He felt for the traces of magic that would have been used in casting the sort of spell that would have been required for the sacrifice of seven, and was drawn to a box shoved onto one of the shelves. He picked up a stone figurine in the shape of a serpent, realisation slowly dawning. That was what had been summoned. It _was_ Regina. And she had summoned the creature for a purpose. He debated calling Emma, but something told him to wait. Something told him that Regina would come to him. There were still two days before the creature would need to feed again, and now that he knew what it was, he could prepare. He needed to get to the shop.

* * *

When he returned home the house was dark, but for a light in the bedroom. He climbed the stairs and found Belle dressed and sitting on the bed reading, an empty bottle of wine on the dresser and a freshly-opened one beside her.

"You're late," she said absently, her words somewhat unsteady. "I didn't make dinner and I don't want any, so you'll have to see to yourself."

"I'll make us both something in a while," he said, hanging his jacket in the wardrobe.

"I just said I don't _want_ anything," she said impatiently. "Pay attention!"

_Enough_. It was time.

"Sweetheart, we need to talk," he began, and she looked at him over the rim of her glass.

"About what?"

"About what happened to your father."

She pulled a face, taking another drink.

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Very well." He shifted his position slightly, both hands on his cane. "I have to say, I thought better of you."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she raised her eyes to his. "_What_?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I expected you could have spared him at least one or two thoughts after his brutal murder."

Belle threw down her book and pushed herself up from the bed. "The last thing I need is a lecture on family loyalty from the likes of you, Rumple," she sneered. "Why are we in this world? Oh, that's right, because you chose magic over your son's love and tried to make up for it ever since. Until you lost him. Again." She gave him a withering glance, hands on hips. "Get your own crap in order before you criticise me."

Her words cut him, but he carried on.

"Well, this really isn't about me, is it?" he said calmly. "This is about how terribly disappointed your father must be in his only child not giving a damn that his heart was ripped from his chest."

She glared at him, then hooded her eyes behind painted lids. "People deal with grief in different ways," she said coldly, turning from him.

"Yes, but they do deal with it." His voice made her stop, and he dropped it to a whisper. "I think you're afraid of yours."

She spun around. "Yeah, well, you've been wrong before, Rumple."

"Not about this," he eyed her steadily, and she glared at him, eyes flashing.

"Well, I suppose this whole affair makes things easier for you," she said accusingly. "You've always hated my father and now he's dead!"

He chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't hate him," he said mildly. "Once I found out that Regina had lied to me about what had happened to you after you left me, I never really thought about him at all. He hated me, I was never interested enough in what he thought to hate him back."

"He did hate you!" she blurted, snatching up her wineglass. "He begged me to leave you and I wouldn't! We fought, the day he died, over you!" She gestured with the glass and slopped wine over her hand, thin red streams like blood dripping onto the rug.

"Do you know how difficult it'll be to get those stains out?" he asked dryly, pointing at the floor, and she glared at him, slamming the glass down on the dresser.

"I don't give a crap about the bloody housekeeping!" she said, through her teeth.

"Fair enough." He shifted his weight to the other foot. "Then let's get back to what we were talking about. Do you wonder what was going through his mind as his heart was torn out? Whether he thought of you in his final moments?" He smiled, holding up one finger, as though an idea had just occurred to him. "Although, come to think of it, perhaps he didn't have time, I mean, there was blood everywhere…"

"Shut up!" Her voice was low and fierce.

"It must have been _horribly _painful," he continued. "And to suffer all that, to have your only daughter care so little that she can't even _pretend_ to cry." He smiled again, opening his hand and spreading the fingers invitingly. "Or perhaps you never really loved him."

Belle bristled. "How dare you!" Her voice shook. "He was – "

"Was what?" he scoffed. "The most important person in your life? We both know that's not true. How often did you go to see him? I forget…"

"You – you can't _say_ that to me!" Her fists clenched, her jaw protruding.

"Well, let's look at the evidence," he suggested calmly, as if they were solving a puzzle. "He tried to marry you off to an imbecile. He didn't understand or care what you wanted from life. And most importantly, he let you be taken away by me."

"That was my choice!" she blurted. "I made the deal with you, not him!"

"Yes," he admitted. "And yet he never tried to make another. To trade himself for you, for example."

"You would never have accepted…"

"He didn't know that. Any parent worth a damn would offer their own life to spare their child." He watched her closely. "He obviously didn't care enough to try."

"That's a _hateful_ thing to say!" she spat. "You're an asshole!"

He laughed quietly. "Never doubt it," he said, amused.

"I miss him _so _much," she said, pain etched in every feature of her face. His heart ached for her, but he knew that she couldn't continue to hold out. She was close to breaking, he could tell.

"Come, Belle," he said easily. "Things are much easier for you now that he's gone, that's evident from your behaviour these last few days."

"He was the best father ever!" she blurted defensively, and his laugh was soft derision, making her want to pound her fists into his face.

"Really?" he chuckled. "Do describe his many fine qualities to me, as it's something I confess you've never bothered to do before. I'm guessing you can't even come up with five."

She trembled with rage, her jaw working as he looked at her enquiringly.

"He – was very good to me after my mother died," she began, and he puffed air through his lips in wry amusement, looking at his fingernails for effect.

"As, no doubt, your servants were."

"He always wanted what was best for me," she added loudly. "He supported me and loved me."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Empty platitudes," he said scornfully, his voice taking on a taunting lilt. "Why don't you tell me something that couldn't be found on any shop-bought greetings card?"

"You _bastard_!" She was shaking with rage, her fists opening and closing. She wanted to rend his face with her nails, shake his hatefully calm demeanour, make him _hurt_. His smile widened.

"Sticks and stones, dearie."

"_Don't_ call me that!" she shouted. "I'm not one of your _deals_!"

"Of _course_ you are, dearie," he drawled lazily. "Or have you forgotten how we met?"

"I _hate_ you like this!" she blurted, her eyes flashing.

"I always tell the truth and people never appreciate it," he sighed, shaking his head sadly. "The truth is, you offered yourself, because your father didn't have the intelligence or courage to stand up to me. And you say he was the best father ever…"

"He was!"

"Prove it." He looked at her, a bored expression on his face, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "I'm waiting…"

She was almost too enraged to speak, and forced herself to take a deep breath. "When I was small, he sang to me – made up songs which were always a little bit rude, about people we knew," she continued, smiling slightly as she remembered. "He taught me to dance, and to ride, and encouraged me to study after my mother died." She remembered his hands steadying her in the saddle, his voice, gentle but firm, telling her to grip with her knees and sit up straight. She recalled him walking into her room with an armful of books and sitting with her as she had leafed through them with exclamations of delight. There was a strange stinging sensation in her eyes, and she was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. "When I was twelve, I caught a bad fever, and he sat for days by my bed, crying and holding my hand. He said it was one of the worst times of his life." The stinging was getting worse, her eyes were filling with water and her voice was starting to shake. She remembered his arms around her when she had recovered, still weak from the fever, his hug fierce, his familiar scent comforting. "He told me that I was beautiful, he comforted me when I was sad, and he made me feel that I was the most important person in his world. And I never got to say goodbye!" A wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over her; she could not ever remember feeling so tired. Her lip was trembling. "I never got to make things up with him, to make him see in you what I see!" Her voice broke, and Gold took a step towards her, reaching for her.

"I stood in the blood!" she sobbed. "I saw his _face_!" Her eyes were bright with tears. "I loved him! I loved him and I _killed _him! He went there to meet _me_! It should have been _me_!"

She was shaking as he grasped her shoulder, drawing her to him, and the tears finally came as she fell against him, her body racked with sobs. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she wept, her tears soaking his shirt. She cried for a long time, and he kissed her forehead, stroking her hair as he whispered to her. He kissed the tears from her eyelids, kissed her cheeks and then her mouth, and she pressed herself against him, her lips seeking his and kissing him passionately as her hands tugged at his belt.

He took her to bed, and she wept in his arms. She sought not oblivion, this time, but solace, and so he was tender with her, his movements slow and deliberate, his touch as gentle as it had been the first time he had taken her, had claimed her for his own. He had kissed the tears from her eyelids then, too, for he had given her pain before the pleasure, despite his tenderness. On that occasion she had smiled at him through her tears, stroking his hair and whispering her love for him. Now she simply wept wordlessly. He kissed her gently until her sobs slowed and finally stopped, but tears continued to pour down her cheeks even as she cried out and clung to him. Afterwards, he folded his arms around her and stroked her hair, kissed her sweet mouth and quieted her with soft words and whispered reassurances. She finally drifted off into a fretful sleep, her head on his chest. She awoke screaming in the night, flailing with her fists until she realised who he was. He held her close as she wept again, calming her and drawing his hand slowly over her face so that she fell into a sleep so deep she would not be troubled by dreams. Despite his eyes feeling grainy with tiredness, he did not sleep after that. He knew that he would soon need to confront Regina. Soon it would end.

* * *

The Queen walked into the hallway of her castle, and stopped dead. Rumplestiltskin was standing by the door that led to the tower cells, frowning slightly and tapping his lips with his finger. He was dressed from head to toe in black leather that looked as though it was made from dragon-skin, and he lifted his hand, feeling the air in front of him.

"What are you doing?" asked Regina bluntly, and he turned to her with a smile.

"I'm wondering why you've cast an enchantment over this tower," he said easily. "It seems that it won't allow magic in or out. Why would that be?"

Regina shrugged, hoping her face was as nonchalant as her voice. "I've taken powerful enemies prisoner over the years," she said dismissively. "I'd be a fool if I didn't take steps to protect myself."

He was still looking at the tower door, a frown crinkling his forehead, and she sought to distract him.

"What can I do for you, Rumple?" she asked. "I assume this isn't a social call."

He clutched his chest in mock affront. "Now, why would you say that?"

She gave him a flat, knowing look. "Because you _always_ have an ulterior motive. Why don't you have a drink with me and tell me what it is you really want?" She swept into her favourite lounge, knowing that he would follow, and made her way to the cabinet holding assorted bottles and glassware, selecting a decanter of wine with long, shapely fingers.

"It's nice to see you out and about again," she said, a taunting light in her eyes. "I heard you were still cowering in your castle, pining over that little piece of fluff you lost." She poured wine into two glasses, handing one to him. "Have you killed her father yet?"

Rumple's eyes darkened, but his face remained impassive. He shoved aside the thoughts that sprang to the front of his mind, the tortuous death he had envisaged for Sir Maurice and the clerics that had broken his Belle. He pushed the violent fantasies that had been haunting him for months far down into the depths of his soul. Following Regina's visit, when she had taunted him with the tale of his true love's demise, he had spent the first two weeks sleeping in Belle's bed; perhaps _sleeping_ was the wrong word, for he had gotten little rest. When he had slept, he had suffered nightmares of Belle, bloodied and screaming, surrounded by dark-robed figures with whips and fire to mark her pale skin, to steal away her beauty, the light in her eyes fading. He had dreamed of Belle curled in a ball of rags and reddened flesh, sobbing in agony, of Belle, empty-eyed and stone-faced, throwing herself from the top of a tower. In those dreams, he reached for her as she fell, only to have her slip through his fingers, and he had awoken with a scream dying in his throat, sweating and shaking, the sheets torn to shreds. In her bed, he had surrounded himself with her scent, pressing his face into her pillows and torturing himself with remembrance of his final words to her. _My power means more to me than you. _ It had been one of his rare lies, and it almost killed him to remember it. He dreamed up many and varied ways of exacting his revenge during those lonely hours, all of them extremely violent, and had revelled in his imaginative cruelty. In the end he had decided, when he had finally stopped crying, that Belle would not have wanted anyone murdered. The worst of it was that he blamed himself, as though his own hand had been on the lash, had marred her perfect skin, had made her scream in agony. Had he not taunted her father that day he came to the castle, she might have been spared. Had he not convinced Maurice that his daughter was ruined by a monster, she might still be alive. He would still be a wretched, sorry excuse for a man, and lonelier than ever, but Belle would be alive. He thought, too, of her final words to him. _All you'll have is an empty heart and a chipped cup_. She had been proven right. It was almost as though she had cursed him. He took a sip of his wine and strode slowly towards the mirror hanging above the fire, not looking at the Queen.

"Servants are easily replaced." He made his voice dismissive, waving a hand absently, doubting that his nonchalance would fool Regina. When she had told him, gloatingly, of Belle's death, the pain had been too raw, too intense, for him to hide his feelings from her. He put down his wine.

"So you _haven't_ killed him. Interesting." She took a drink. "Then what do you want?"

"I just wondered if you'd had any more thoughts on abandoning your plans for revenge," said Rumple lightly, tapping his forefingers together. "Perhaps you'd like me to train you some more – it might take your mind off this unhealthy obsession with vengeance."

"I've thought about nothing _but_ my revenge!" she said hotly. "And I believe I may have found the solution to all my problems."

A muscle twitched in Rumple's cheek, but other than that he gave no outward sign of his feelings on this new development.

"Really?" he asked softly. "And what might that be?"

Regina smiled widely. "The sleeping curse," she said with relish, and he giggled delightedly, making her frown.

"Well, that's never going to work!" he said gleefully. "Not permanently, that is."

Regina set her glass down, hard. "It _will_ work!" she snapped. "Snow White will fall asleep and suffer for all eternity, and her precious Prince will suffer with her. I can watch them and_ enjoy _their suffering. It's perfect!"

"Oh yes," said Rumple kindly. "I'm sure it will be. Perfect until he kisses her, that is."

"_What?"_ Regina glowered at him, and his smile increased.

"True love, dearie," he explained. "The most powerful magic of all. It can break any curse, as you know. The moment the Prince kisses her, she'll wake up, and all your plans will have come to nothing." He walked away from her back towards the fire, sipping his wine, and she strode after him angrily.

"Then I'll just have to kill him before he can get there!" she spat, and Rumple chuckled softly.

"I wish you well in your efforts, dearie," he said indulgently, making her feel like a less-than-intelligent child playing with toys because she wasn't trusted with adult tasks. She flushed with anger and humiliation, and his smile widened. "When it all goes wrong, why don't you call on me and ask for my help? I'm sure I can think of something to occupy your time in a more productive way."

"It'll work!" she snapped. "And when it does I'll be happy to accept your apology. Now, if you don't mind, I have plans to make!"

He swept her a mocking bow. "I give it a week," he said tauntingly, and disappeared as Regina threw her wine glass at him in rage.

* * *

**A/N Next time - Regina's plan develops an unfortunate flaw...**


	8. Chapter 8

"So, what's the plan?" Emma asked. She had organised around twenty of the townsfolk into parties of five to spread out in the tunnels, in an attempt to find the creature. They were milling around in the town hall, hefting axes, shovels and anything else that could be used as a weapon. David had his sword belted at his waist, and several of the townsfolk were eyeing it greedily as they clutched what had until that morning been mere gardening implements. Emma, David, Mary Margaret, Leroy and Gold made up the final party. Regina was nowhere to be found, which Emma found both suspicious and worrying. Gold had arrived shortly after eight following her phone call and was awaiting the attention of the group. He looked tired, Emma thought, his face drawn and dark circles beneath his eyes, but he was dressed as immaculately as ever. He reached into his inside pocket and retrieved a glass bottle filled with a poisonous-looking green liquid that sloshed thickly. He beckoned to the Storybrookers and they crowded around nervously, straining for a better look at the potion.

"We appear to have a wyvern on the loose," he remarked calmly, as though he were referring to a stray cat. "As they are by no means indigenous to Maine, I would suggest that it was – released – into the town somehow."

"Regina," said David grimly, and Gold shrugged.

"Well, I know it wasn't me, so that does narrow down the list of suspects, yes. Of course, it could be something of Cora's doing, although that's less likely given the time that has elapsed since her death. Not impossible, however, so perhaps we shouldn't jump to unfortunate conclusions. Regina may be entirely innocent."

"How do we kill it?" called Leroy, and Gold grimaced.

"It would need to be beheaded," he said. "But these things are far tougher than they look. The easier course of action would be to banish it to another realm, which is where this comes in." He shook the bottle in his hand, contents swirling viscously.

"But – what about the people there?" asked Mary Margaret, worry etched on her face. "If we sent it to the Enchanted Forest, wouldn't that put them in danger?"

Gold smiled darkly. "As I understand it, there are few people left there," he said. "But worry not, Miss Blanchard. If it were that easy to open a portal to the Enchanted Forest, I have a feeling we would already be there." She inclined her head, nodding her understanding, and he looked around the group again. "The potion will – contain it, for want of a better word. The creature has magic of its own. It can exist between worlds, and spends much of its time in the underworld. We need to send it back there. I promise we will not be letting a monster loose on what remains of your people."

Mary Margaret relaxed somewhat, nodding again as Gold slipped the potion back into his pocket.

"So, what do we need to do?" asked David, and Gold folded his hands over the top of his cane.

"I suggest you all go down into the tunnels and drive it towards a central point," he said, nodding towards the groups of volunteers. "The cavern below the library would be adequate for our task, and the four of us should wait there. I would appreciate the assistance of Miss Swan to prepare the portal." He looked to Emma at that point, and she nodded her agreement. His mouth twitched. He didn't need her for this, not at all, but the temptation to watch her using more magic, to see her need for it growing, was irresistible. "Do not allow the creature to touch you," he added. "Stay well back from it. It is afraid of fire, so torches would be a good idea. If it manages to strike, it can rip your heart from your chest in an instant."

The townsfolk shifted their feet, shooting nervous glances at one another. Gold smiled coldly.

"However, if it does manage to consume a heart, it will be easy to deal with," he added conversationally, flicking his hair out of his eyes with a brief shake of his head. "It goes into a form of trance when it ingests the heart, so that it can absorb the power, the life essence, of the one slain." His smile widened, gold tooth glinting, as he spread the fingers of his left hand extravagantly. "So, if anyone feels like 'taking one for the team', please be my guest."

David shot him a very level look, and stepped forward, his gaze flicking over the crowd. "You heard him," he said loudly. "We scare it and drive it towards the library. No heroics. If it attacks you, run!" There was a ripple of nodding, and he issued instructions to prepare torches to take down into the tunnels. The crowd broke up, each group checking their weapons as David and Mary Margaret informed them where they would be expected to enter the tunnels. Gold waited, faintly bored, and looked over at Emma.

"Where's Henry?" he asked, as she checked the bullets in her gun.

"Granny's," she answered briefly. "She and Ruby are looking out for him."

Gold grunted. He pitied the wyvern if it tried to attack Granny.

* * *

Henry tucked into his hot brownie with ice cream, chocolate smeared around his mouth. Ruby was pacing nervously behind the bar as Granny wiped down the tables for the third time.

"It'll be okay," he said, trying to reassure them both. "Emma will totally kick this thing's butt!" Ruby returned his grin, rubbing her hands together awkwardly as though she didn't know what to do with them.

"Well, I'll be happier when this is all over," remarked Granny. "Wyverns were always bad for business, even back home. I remember, once, when…" She cut off as the door opened and Regina strode into the diner, clad in a dark tailored suit and crimson wool coat.

"Did no-one think to tell me that my son was here?" she demanded, eyes flashing. "I've been worried sick! Where is Emma?"

"They've all gone into the tunnels to hunt the wyvern," said Granny bluntly. "I didn't think Emma was letting you see him, anyway."

Regina took a step forward and glared at her. Granny seemed unruffled.

"Henry is _my son_," said Regina softly. "I raised him for ten years after she tossed him away, before she waltzed back into his life like nothing happened. Don't you _dare_ try to keep him from me!"

"Mom?" Henry's voice made her turn, and he hugged her. She held onto him fiercely, and he looked up imploringly.

"Look, I don't know what happened between you two before you rescued me," he said, confusion on his face. "But, please, don't get angry! I don't want anyone to fight. I want us _all_ to be a family."

Regina's face softened, and she stroked his hair.

"You're right, sweetheart," she said gently. "I'll try, I promise. But she won't let me see you."

Henry grinned, a little mischievously. "Well, you're seeing me now," he offered. "Why don't you sit with me? Have coffee?"

Without being asked, Ruby poured a cup from the coffee maker, and Regina nodded her thanks, sliding into the seat across from Henry's. He grinned again, going back to his brownie. There was silence for a while as Regina sipped her coffee and Henry scraped his plate for the last morsels of chocolate. Ruby put on more coffee.

"Well, I guess we can settle in for a while," announced Granny. "It'll take them some time to comb the tunnels for this thing. It'll be hiding from them, mark my words."

A noise outside, a scraping, shrieking noise, drew their attention.

"Or," said Ruby softly, nostrils flaring as she stared towards the door. "Or, it could just come right here."

She ran out from behind the bar and grabbed for Henry as the door burst open, ignoring Regina's shout. The wyvern reared up on its thick tail, greenish-black head reaching almost to the ceiling, its glowing red eyes like burning embers, fixed on Henry. Regina leapt up from the table and stood in front of her son, her heart pounding. She reminded herself that she was wearing the amulet, and was therefore safe. But why had it come here? Why had it not gone for Emma? She heard Ruby dragging Henry to the huge walk-in freezer at the back of the diner and pushing him into it, slamming the heavy door shut as Henry shouted in protest. The creature screamed its rage and lunged, and Regina lifted her hands and summoned enough magic to blast it into bits, purple fire streaking from her palms. The magic seemed to fold around the creature, leaving it unharmed, and her eyes widened in horror and sudden fear. It hissed at her, jaw dropping open to reveal a long, forked tongue and sharp fangs. Its breath reeked of blood, a metallic tang in the air, and it swept past Regina, slithering to the freezer. It knocked Ruby aside as though she were nothing and slammed its head heavily against the freezer door. Regina span towards it, tried another spell, but this one again bounced off the creature's hide as though it were immune. Ruby crawled towards the bar, wincing as she got to her feet. The wyvern battered against the door again, leaving a huge dent, and Regina could feel her heart hammering in fear for her son. Why wasn't it _working? _She couldn't understand why it was after Henry, unless…

"_Hey!_" shouted Granny, making the creature turn its head as she heaved a pan full of hot oil at it, her hands wrapped in a dishcloth to protect them from the heat. It shrieked in rage and pain, writhing, and lunged at her as she hefted the pan again, smacking it around the head. The wyvern tumbled across the room, ungainly in its agony, and curled in the corner by the door.

"A little help here!" shouted Granny, her eyes flashing fiercely. "Your Majesty, any magic you've got would be useful right about now!"

"It's not _working_!" snapped Regina desperately, wringing her hands as another spell failed to score a hit.

"Ruby, get my crossbow!" yelled Granny, as the creature reared up once more, its skin blistered from the hot oil, dark rage in its eyes.

Ruby came running from the kitchens, but she wasn't carrying a crossbow. She held a rag that she had dipped in oil and lit from the burners, and she hurled it at the creature. Immediately flames engulfed it where the oil still coated its skin and the wyvern screamed horribly, throwing itself back out of the door and down the street, a trail of fire licking along the road behind it as it fled.

The three women relaxed a little, breathing hard with the shock and sudden exertion. Regina ran to the freezer and released Henry, whose shivering was not all from the cold. He hugged her fiercely and she kissed his head in relief.

"Has it gone?" His voice was muffled by her coat, and she released him, squatting down a little so that she could look him in the eye.

"It's gone," she affirmed. "Granny and Ruby attacked it and set it on fire. I don't think it'll be back any time soon." She shot a grateful smile at the two other women as she said it, and Granny gave her a curt nod.

"Best clean this place up," she said shortly, and strode into the kitchens for a mop and bucket. Regina turned back to Henry, and reached into the collar of her coat, feeling for the chain of the amulet.

"That thing was a wyvern," she explained. "Mr Gold told me what it was, and I've found something that will protect you." She lifted the amulet from around her neck, and placed it around his. "It won't be able to harm you while you're wearing this." She straightened up, and Henry looked worried.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice small, as though he were suddenly much younger. She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

"I'm going to help Mr Gold and Emma to defeat it," she said calmly. "They'll need all the magic they can get. I'll be back as soon as it's gone. As soon as you're safe."

Henry smiled, relieved, and hugged her again.

"I knew it!" he said fiercely. "I knew you could be a hero! Both my Moms are heroes."

Regina blinked back tears as she held him tight. She had messed up with her spell, messed up badly. It must have been _Henry_ that was the last to touch the swan pendant. She had almost caused his death. The thought made her feel as though her insides were freezing over. But he was right. She could be a hero. She could save him and the rest of this crappy town. She could even work with Emma, Gold and the two idiots to do it.

* * *

Regina hurried to the library, spying movement inside as she reached for the door handle. Emma and Gold turned towards her as the door opened. Emma was fastening a rope around her waist, preparing to lower herself down the elevator shaft. Regina presumed David and Mary Margaret were already down there.

"Your Majesty," said Gold dryly. "What a pleasant surprise." He nodded over his shoulder at Emma, and she scowled at Regina before stepping back into the shaft and letting herself down. Gold turned back to Regina.

"I need your help," Regina said through gritted teeth. He smiled none too pleasantly.

"I'm aware of that," he said quietly. "Don't worry, I'll get rid of the creature. You did, after all, take the fall for me in Neverland. I have a feeling that's what led to these – unfortunate circumstances." He smiled briefly, lacing his fingers together on the handle of his cane. "However," he added "I'm thinking there's a little more to it than the summoning of this creature to terrorise the town." He watched her carefully, and waited. She sighed.

"What do you want?" she asked unwillingly.

"First of all, tell me why," he asked calmly, and she met his gaze defiantly.

"I summoned it, and gave it Emma's pendant," she began. "I asked it to kill her in exchange for me freeing it – you know the price for that sort of magic." He nodded impatiently, and Regina sighed and looked at her hands uncertainly. "I think it was Henry that last touched the pendant," she admitted. "That thing went straight for him – it ignored me, ignored Granny and Ruby. It wanted him dead. I was going to get rid of it after it killed her, to show Henry that I could do some good, but…"

"So you put your own son in danger for some petty revenge on a woman whose goodwill you ought to be courting," he said softly, shaking his head. "Have you learned nothing in all the years I've taught you? You must stop acting without thinking, Regina." He shifted his position slightly, looking at her, her face drawn with fear and guilt. "Didn't you try to banish it yourself?"

"It won't _work_," said Regina desperately. "I had to give Henry my amulet, and…"

Gold's eyes widened. "Amulet?"

Regina nodded absently. "Yes, it's made of silver and amber, and has runic…"

He waved a dismissive hand, chuckling mirthlessly. "Honestly, Regina, I thought you would have learned by now not to use something without researching it first," he said, eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. "That amulet protects you from the creature, but as I tell you _constantly_, all magic comes with a price. The price of your protection, is that _you_ cannot hurt _it_. No wonder your magic failed."

Regina raised her chin. "Well, I don't have it any more," she declared. "I gave it to Henry. So let's go kick this thing's ass."

"And Miss Swan?" asked Gold lazily. Regina sighed.

"What do you want in return for not telling her?" she asked reluctantly, and he smiled.

"Don't worry, Your Majesty, your secret is safe with me," he soothed. "You can still be the hero for Henry. I will help you to get rid of the creature and save the day." His voice was mocking.

"And the price?" she asked flatly. He bared his teeth.

"I want your promise that you will never, either directly or indirectly, bring any harm to Belle," he said simply. She opened her mouth to agree, but he held up a hand, silencing her. "Understand this, dearie," he added menacingly. "Should you ever decide to break this deal…"

"You'll kill me," she nodded impatiently, but he shook his head.

"I'll kill Henry," he said softly. "I'll rip his heart from his chest and crush it. And I'll make you watch while I do it."

Regina gasped, horror mounting in her face. "You'd do that to your own _grandson_?"

"Well, we haven't really had all that much time to bond," he said dismissively. "And while I may care for the boy, I know his death would be much more painful for you."

"Belle would never forgive you," she said automatically, and he shrugged.

"Rehabilitation is an uphill struggle at the best of times."

Regina was breathing hard, watching him carefully. She was trying and failing to tell if he was bluffing, and he raised his eyebrow.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked quietly, and she nodded mutely.

"Deal," she said, with a tremor in her voice.

"Excellent," he smiled. "Now let's get to work."

* * *

**A/N Okay, before the shrieks of outrage start, I don't honestly think Gold would ever hurt Henry. Thanks for the reviews - Twyla Mercedes, that's a _great_ idea about Henry, and something I may use in future stories. As for what actually went on in Neverland, once I finish up here I'll be publishing my next story, which will hopefully explain everything.**

**Hope you're all enjoying this. If so please review. We're nearing the end...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N - last chapter! Thanks for sticking with me to the end. Just to reiterate, I own nothing.**

* * *

"What the hell is _she_ doing here?" demanded David, as Gold and Regina walked into the cavern.

"I'm here to help," said Regina coldly. "And by the look of things, you could use it, so how about we stop bickering for five minutes and concentrate on keeping the town safe?"

Mary Margaret looked between her husband and daughter and shrugged lightly. David sighed, nodded, and hefted his sword.

"Any word yet?" asked Gold.

"No, no-one's seen it," said Leroy, shoving a walkie-talkie into his pocket. "The dwarfs have been combing the mines, but nothing. It's like this thing vanishes into thin air."

"It'll have gone for water," said Regina. "Granny threw oil on it and then set it on fire, so I'm guessing it's really pissed off."

"_What?"_ demanded Emma, and Regina lifted her chin, meeting Emma's eyes.

"It came into Granny's and went for Henry," she explained. "We managed to fight it off."

"It was _awesome_!" Henry's voice startled them all, and they turned to see him sliding down the rope.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" shouted Emma. "I left you at Granny's for a reason!"

"I gave her the slip," Henry declared, completely unembarrassed. "I want to help."

"You can help by being safe," snapped Regina. "Emma's right, you shouldn't be here."

"Perhaps he _can_ help," offered Gold. "If the creature has decided it wants him as its victim, it may come straight to us."

"We are not using my son as bait!" shouted Regina, eyes flashing, and he shrugged.

"Take him back then, if you will."

"Guys!" Leroy's voice cut through the arguing, and he waved his walkie-talkie. "That was Tiny. It's in the mines! It's coming right for us!"

"Quickly!" snapped Gold. "Charmings, cut to each side, make sure it doesn't escape. You," he jabbed his finger at Leroy. "Take your axe and block the tunnel entrance once it's passed through." The three promptly jogged in opposite directions, weapons in hand, and were soon out of sight. "Now," he continued softly, walking to what was almost the centre of the cavern, "we need to prepare." He pulled the bottle of potion from his pocket and curled the fingers of his other hand around it, making the liquid inside glow brightly. He poured it slowly in a clockwise direction, making a large circle of vibrant green on the cavern floor.

"How do we open the portal?" asked Emma warily, and he flicked a glance over his shoulder at her.

"We use the creature's own magic against it," he said. "We will need to combine our magic. Then I'll open the portal. Once that's done, just follow my lead and we can force it in there."

They all looked around nervously as a loud shriek echoed through the cavern.

"It's here!" shouted Henry.

"Henry, get back!" snapped Emma, shoving at him.

They waited anxiously as the scraping, slithering sound drew nearer, and Emma gasped as the wyvern reared up in front of them unexpectedly. God, this thing was _big_. Not as big as the dragon, she reminded herself, but big enough, and far more agile. She hoped they could be fast enough to defeat it. She noticed angry blisters coating its skin, raw flesh weeping, its gleaming red eyes filled with rage and pain. They turned to fix on Henry as the creature swayed back and forth, scaled body undulating, almost mesmerising. Gold could tell that it sensed the protective amulet around the boy's neck. Its eyes narrowed with malign intelligence, its gaze calculating. It opened its mouth and hissed loudly, displaying long fangs dripping with fluid. Emma wondered if its bite was poisonous.

"Are you ready?" whispered Gold, and the two women nodded mutely. He hefted a ball of purple fire in his hand and hurled it at the creature. The wyvern moved so quickly it was almost a blur, twisting away from the magic, its tail whipping around to sweep his legs out from under him. Gold went down with a crash, smacking his head against hard rock.

"Gold!" shouted Emma, her eyes wide with sudden fear. He lay very still, as though unconscious, but opened his eyes a crack. She was panting, looking desperately at Regina, as the Queen hurled her own magic and the wyvern slithered underneath the spell, hissing in rage. It reared up again as Regina was gathering her strength for another attack, and fixed its eyes on Emma. It lunged at her, jaws opening, reaching for the precious heart within her chest, and Henry screamed as she threw herself down to get out of the way. It turned in a trice, body whipping around to attack again. Gold met Regina's eyes from his place on the floor; he glared at her, and she nodded stiffly. Emma, scrambling backwards on the heels of her hands, noticed nothing. Regina raised her hands again as Emma got to her feet and the wyvern shot forwards to attack her. Regina wrapped Emma in a flow of magic and jerked her backwards out of the way, dragging the other woman into her arms as she threw the rest of her magic at the creature. From his position on the floor, Gold was quietly impressed at her improved ability to divide the flows of her magic. A cloud of purple smoke seemed to wrap around the wyvern and it shrieked its rage as it was trapped, its body curled tightly into a ball. Regina was straining visibly to hold it, to force it back towards the circle. Emma pulled free of the arm around her waist and took Regina's hand firmly in her own, willing her own magic to meld with the Queen's. Immediately, the purple light bloomed brightly and the creature was pushed back, above the circle of potion. Regina tightened her grip on Emma's hand and used the last of her strength to tap into the creature's own dark magic, to force open a door in the fabric of reality. She gasped in pain. Doing it this way was like peeling off her own _skin_! Emma grimaced at the magic's taint, but gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and, with a last effort, Regina opened the portal. She locked eyes with Emma, and together the two women forced the wyvern down, pushing it into the dark opening. They were straining with the effort; its struggles were fiercer than ever, but it was sinking by degrees. It let out a final, enraged shriek before the portal closed up around it with a strange, muffled _boom_. Regina and Emma collapsed backwards in a tangle of limbs and for a moment there was no sound but harsh breathing.

"You did it!" Henry ran to Regina and Emma and jumped up and down in excitement. Emma stood, wearily, hugging him to her. With her arm still around Henry, she reached down, pulling Regina to her feet, and Henry made a grab for his adoptive mother, dragging her into an awkward group hug.

Gold pushed himself to his feet slowly. He could feel a lump growing where he had hit his head. That was going to be painful.

"It appears my services were not required," he said mildly. "Continue to join forces like that, ladies, and you'll put me out of business."

"You alright?" asked Emma breathlessly, and he nodded with a wry expression, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Mary Margaret rushed towards them, David close behind her, and hurled herself at Emma and Henry. Regina hurriedly extracted herself from the arms of her son. Hugging her sworn enemy was a step too far. Leroy sauntered into view, announcing the defeat of the creature over his walkie-talkie.

"Granny's, fellas," he said bluntly. "First round's on me." He nodded briefly to the others, and strode off towards the elevator shaft.

Henry drew back from his mother and grandparents, looking up at them.

"She saved us," he said, nodding at Regina. "She saved my Mom and she defeated it. _Please!_" He looked imploringly between his biological mother and his adoptive mother. Regina met Emma's gaze warily. Emma eyed her closely for a moment, her chest heaving.

"Three days a week," she said abruptly. "And every other Sunday. Sound good to you?"

Regina's face cracked into a beautiful smile. "That sounds perfect," she agreed, and held out her hand. Emma hesitated, then shook it firmly. Henry hurled himself at Regina and hugged her fiercely. She stroked his hair, kissing the top of his head, and shot a grateful glance at Gold. He rolled his eyes with a wry smile.

"Well," announced David, looking somewhat uncertainly at Regina. "I heard Leroy suggest a drink at Granny's. Shall we?"

The party broke up and began walking wearily towards the elevator. Gold watched them go, David and Mary Margaret with their arms around Emma, followed by Regina, who held out her hand to her son. Henry suddenly threw himself at Gold, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and making him stumble.

"I saw what you did," whispered Henry. "It was really sneaky. Thank you." He raised his head, looking up at Gold, a light in his eyes, almost mischievous. Gold was suddenly reminded heavily, painfully, of Bae at the same age. He wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged him tight.

"Tell no-one," he whispered softly, and felt Henry nod.

* * *

Gold joined them at Granny's for a drink and one of the burgers that Ruby brought in piles from the kitchen. The atmosphere was celebratory; Henry told of Regina's actions in his piping voice and the others displayed an appropriate level of uneasy gratitude. The gathering became more raucous as the beer flowed and the dwarfs started singing. Gold stood on the sidelines, saying little, watching as Regina smiled and hugged her son. She still wasn't accepted, perhaps she never would be, but she would now have joint caring responsibilities for the one person she loved. It might be enough. He slipped from the diner, unnoticed, and made his way home.

* * *

He walked up the stairs tiredly, seeing a thin shaft of warm light shining through the bedroom door, which stood ajar. He pushed it open slowly to see her sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She was wearing his shirt; the deep blue silk suited her pale skin and dark hair. She looked better, more rested, but there was still pain etched in her face. He wondered how long it would take to leave her.

"The creature is gone," he said quietly, and she nodded and turned her gaze back to the coverlet, fingers twisting around one another awkwardly. There was a moment's silence.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and he raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Why are you apologising?" he asked, nonplussed, and she grimaced.

"I haven't been fair to you," she muttered, and looked up at him, patting the covers beside her. He hesitated a moment, then removed his jacket and sat down on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes before drawing his feet up and sitting back against the pillows.

"You were in pain," he said gently. "You still are. If I could take it away I would, but as it is…you channelling some of it through me is a small price to pay."

She shifted uncomfortably at the remembrance, and flicked her eyes up to meet his.

"When you heard what had happened to me," she said quietly. "When Regina told you Father had – had me tortured, that I'd killed myself. Why didn't you go after him? I would have thought you'd want to – kill him, or something."

"Oh, I did," he said with a twisted smile. "I thought about it. I even devised an ingenious and painful series of punishments. I was really quite inventive."

She bit her lip uncertainly and he touched her cheek. "But then I realised that that would be the last thing you would have wanted," he added gently. "So I chose to honour your memory by sparing him." His smile was rueful. "Although, I did slip somewhat when he stole your cup."

She smiled sadly. "He never thought I could change you for the better," she said. "But I did, didn't I?"

He pulled her closer. "You change me for the better every day you're with me," he said gently, and kissed her forehead.

"And are you happy?" she asked anxiously.

"Very." He kissed her again. "I love you, Belle."

"I love you too." She bit her lip, and he put his head to one side.

"What is it?"

His voice was gentle, and her eyes bored into his, making him want to drown in their blue depths. She did not speak for a moment, but dropped her gaze and sighed, picking at a loose thread on the eiderdown. He wanted to stop her from pulling at it, but let her continue.

"When I was a girl, nine or ten, I suppose, I followed my brother on a hunt," she began, not looking at him. "I wasn't supposed to be there, but I could ride as well as he and I didn't think it was fair that I should be left behind just because I was a girl."

He smiled; of course that's what she would have thought.

"The hunters killed a deer. They sliced open its belly and gutted it." She looked at him then, her eyes wide, bright with raw pain. "I watched its eyes glaze over, and I felt that all its grace and gentleness had gone, torn out with its innards to stink in the sun. It was like something pure and innocent had been – violated, defiled." She dropped her gaze once more, tugging at the thread absently. "That's how I have felt, ever since…" she raised her eyes slowly, uncertainly. "I'm like that deer. I'm damaged, Rumple. Not just by losing Papa. By – everything that's happened. Everything…"

_Everything that's happened since you met me_, he thought, sorrowfully. His expression clenched in pain, but she was still concentrating on wrapping the loose thread around her finger, and didn't notice his anguish.

"I keep pretending I'm fine," she continued, her voice almost a whisper. ""But I'm not. I'm broken."

He reached for her hand, unwinding the thread, and clasped it in his.

"Yes," he said gently. "But you will heal."

She shook her head, but didn't pull away. "I'll never be who I was before. I've lost them all, now. I almost lost myself. For a time I _wanted_ to lose myself."

He raised her hand to his lips then, kissed it softly. "We are all the sum of our experiences," he said quietly. "The bad as well as the good. What you've been through, what you've done, it doesn't make you any less beautiful, or kind, or special. It only makes me love you more, Belle."

Her face crumpled then, as though she was about to cry, and she swallowed hard and pressed her forehead to his, hugging him.

"I can't lose you too," she whispered, and he kissed her brow gently, wrapping his arms around her.

"You'll never lose me," he assured her, and she gave a short, humourless laugh.

"We always lose one another!" she said tearfully. "We're always getting pulled apart. I don't think I can stand it if it happens again."

"But we always get back together," he reminded her. "True love is the most powerful magic of all, you know that. It requires sacrifice, on both sides."

Tears dripped down her cheeks as she pulled from his grip and sat back, and she wiped them away furiously.

"I'm tired," she said brokenly, dashing at her eyes once more. "I'm s-so _tired, _Rumple!"

He stroked her cheek, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Please don't cry, sweetheart," he crooned softly. "You'll heal. You'll mend. I'll always be here for you."

She nodded with a tremulous smile, and he brushed her hair back from her face and kissed the tears from her eyes. She clung to him tightly, and they lay down with her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her.

"I wish I could be sure," she whispered, and he pushed himself up, rolling her onto her back as he gazed down at her. She reached up hesitantly, pushing his hair back from his face, stroking it gently as he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand.

"Sure of what?" he asked softly, and she smiled, her fingers gently caressing his cheek.

"That you'll always be here," she said. "That I won't lose you."

He smiled, steeling himself, gathering the small, stunted thing that was the last vestige of his courage and pressing it to use as he kissed her softly on the mouth.

"Then marry me," he breathed, and smiled against her lips as he felt her gasp.

"_What?"_

He pushed himself up on his elbows, and her eyes were wide, alight with love and sudden hope. His grin widened.

"Marry me," he repeated, and almost laughed as she threw her arms around him. She made him repeat it three more times, half-crying and half-laughing, before she put him out of his misery with a fervent 'yes!' Pressing his mouth to hers, he felt as though his heart would burst. Against all the odds, against everything that had been thrown at them, most of which had arisen from his own insecurities, she had chosen him. The rest of the world could go to hell. With Belle in his arms, he was complete. The light of his life. Part of his soul. His one, true, love.

* * *

**A/N - That's it, folks! Hope you enjoyed it. Please review if so. Thanks for all your support throughout. I'll be posting the start of a new story next weekend, so keep an eye out for "The Dark One's Kiss", set in Neverland. **

**Much love, dearies x**


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